Supernatural and Shadowhunters: The Shield of Despair
by Emmanuel Summers
Summary: The story is set right after Sam and Dean agree to work with the English Men of Letters (Season 12, Ep15). Aided by Mick Davies, the Winchesters are sent to New York City to solve a case involving the brutal murder of a young girl. What seemed to be a simple werewolf hunt soon turns into a case that could decide the future of the world as we know it.
1. Prologue

**DISCLAIMER**

This is a Fanfiction Crossover between the Supernatural and Shadowhunters TV shows. The characters of Cassidy Blossom, Nick, Beatrice and Chamsael were created by the author. The rest of the main characters in this story belong to the creators of the aforementioned series. The depicted events do not affect past, present or future events in storylines.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE**

This crossover is set in both universes of the Supernatural and Shadowhunters TV shows, setting the disposed episodes as starting points (see below), with the story ending before the next episode in line. It will consist of a prologue, five chapters and an epilogue. The plot is set in a way that it would not bring conflicts to past or upcoming events in both series´ canons.

Chapters will be gradually published. I hope fans of both series like the plot and my writing style. Reviews and harsh criticism are welcome. Profanity filter is turned off. Enjoy...

* * *

 **THE ROAD SO FAR…**

 **Supernatural (Season 12, Episode 15):** After multiple lies, secrets and setbacks, Sam confesses to his brother that he is working with the English Men of Letters and that he's getting leads on cases from their superior intelligence network. Dean agrees to start working with them as well, pointing out his mistrust, and stating as a condition that as soon as something feels off, they leave the group.

 **Shadowhunters - The Mortal Instruments (Season 2, Episode 10):** The battle at the New York Shadowhunter Institute results in the activation of the Soul Sword by Jace Weyland after being tricked by Valentine Morgenstern. The sword´s energy blast causes the deaths of dozens of Downworlders at the scene. Jace chases Valentine and beats him in a ferocious battle while Clary Fairchild tries to destroy the sword, failing and losing it in the process. Valentine ends up incarcerated by the Clave in hopes of getting the whereabouts of the Mortal Cup. With numerous casualties and the Soul Sword still in unknown whereabouts, the Shadowhunters must carry on and do their best to revert the situation.

* * *

 **PROLOGUE**

It's a cold and extremely dark night. A freezing breeze enters through Cassidy's exposed neck, reaching every pore of her skin covered in satin clothes. Chills run down her spine. _How did I end up in this park at this hour?_ She whines.

The answer lies deeply within her troubled spirit, tormenting her with every step she takes. She was raised under the care of one of the most devoted catholic families in New York. Her entire childhood, adolescence, and part of her young adulthood, were conditioned according to her parents' interpretations of the Bible, and she had always accepted that. She had never flinched, complained, or even questioned the strict regime she was always subjected to. Her faith had always been stronger than her needs. However, she had just given in to temptation.

 _What happened to me_? She asks herself repeatedly. _I almost broke my vows back there, giving in to the temptations of the flesh like that._ She starts muttering her well-known prayers, hoping to magically forget how she almost had sex, with a guy she had just met, at her best friend's birthday party. _I almost lost everything back there,_ she sighs while looking at her small gold watch. _2:15. I should have taken a cab._ Her thoughts about the current situation are soon wiped by the image of the man who had broken her iron devoted will. She remembers his pale face, his pronounced cheeks and his grey soothing eyes. _Oh, my god, those eyes, those big, round, hypnotizing eyes._ She mutters and sighs his well-remembered name. _Nick…_

The sound of a moving bush startles her. She turns around, checking the emptiness of the place. The blackness of the starless sky, the freezing wind, the darkened trees and the flashing park lamp are more than enough to make Cassidy Blossom walk faster. _Got to reach the street,_ she whispers to herself. The sound of smashed leaves makes her heart go haywire. She lacks the courage to look.

Someone grabs her wrists when being steps away from the street. Fear shuts her eyes. She screams, kicks and struggles, trying to get away from her assailant's strong grip. Her fight ends when she hears his voice.

"Girl, it's just me. Calm down…"

Cassidy opens her small blue eyes. The person still holds her wrists tightly, yet she feels safe. Seeing his gray eyes staring at her with such peace soothes her. The sight of his black hair under the dim light of the park lamp makes her body shiver with pleasure. _Nick..._

"Take it easy," he stops her.

He gently lets her wrists go, stands in front of her and fixes all the loose locks of her blonde hair. He glares at her. She stares back at him. _My god, what am I doing? Why can't I stop him?_ Her hands are paralyzed. Her body shivers with excitement.

"Now, are you ready?" He asks seductively.

"Yes…"

Nick abruptly changes his facial expression. His smile turns grim. His whole silhouette becomes shadowy. His voice adopts a more sinister tone.

"I wasn't talking to you, _blondie_."

"What are you…?"

She doesn't manage to finish her question. A huge pain invades her back, lasting a few seconds before she stops feeling anything at all. Her life fades away as she sees her own bloody heart, out of her chest, held in the air by a hand full of claws. Cassidy Blossom is now a corpse lying on the park sidewalk, surrounded by a pool of her own blood.

Nick doesn't show fear or surprise. Instead, he walks away, followed by the person who performed the kill. All lamps in the park stop emitting light all of a sudden. The place goes pitch black. The breeze turns even colder.

"Is this the last one?" He asks.

"There's still one left," the killer puts Cassidy's bloody heart inside a small wooden box. "I already have her name. It's just a matter of time now…"

The shady character hands Nick a small rolled piece of parchment. He opens it, smiles upon reading the name written on it, then rolls it back, putting it inside one of the numerous pockets sewed on his black trench coat. He mumbles the same words over and over as he walks away.

"See you soon, Clarissa Fairchild…"


	2. Chapter 1: Dangerous Encounters

**CHAPTER 1: DANGEROUS ENCOUNTERS**

The sound of the tuned engine under the hood of a classic car adorns the night. Its body's black color shines in the dark, aided by the residual yellow glow coming from its headlights. Its shiny rims are reflected on every wet portion of the New York State Thruway's pavement. An ordinary person would dub it as a classic, remodeled Chevy, with extensive makeup. Fanatics, addicts and experts would know it as a 1967 Chevrolet Impala with all its original features intact.

Its lifetime hosts, the veteran monster hunters Sam and Dean Winchester, ride it towards the big city. Dean keeps his eyes on the road, firmly grabbing the steering wheel with one hand. Sam occupies the front seat, with his eyes staring at the same direction, but allowing himself to take quick peeks at his brother from time to time. The engine´s sound slightly mitigates the reigning silence along with the old and original cassette player, which loudly plays Bon Jovi's 1986 hit, _Livin' on a Prayer_.

"Are you still mad, Dean?" Sam breaks the unbearable silence.

"I'm digesting everything that has happened, Sam," Dean keeps his eyes on the road. "I still haven't figured out your choice of working with _them_."

From an early age, their father, John Winchester, dragged Sam and Dean into the hunting life along with him, motivated by an immeasurable thirst for revenge. Following a ruthless training that combined hunting prowess and military discipline, he prepared his two sons for dealing with supernatural creatures. Both their lives took important turns that forced them to participate in extraordinary events, granting them a legendary reputation among fellow hunters and monsters alike. Basically, they're the guys who saved the world an uncountable number of times.

"I mean, it's true they've got cool toys," Dean keeps talking. "They've got stuff we never even dreamed of. But you well know…"

"I know," Sam interrupts him. "I don't trust them either. But you've got to admit, it's not just their gear. Their knowledge, experience, and even their intelligence network could help us save many lives. Even we hadn't seen half of that stuff, ever, and we've got a lot of mileage…"

"I already told you my terms, and I don't wanna' talk about it anymore. Better tell me what we've got."

Sam grabs his white laptop from the car's back seat and opens it. The screen shows a webpage with news about a murdered girl in New York City. He starts giving the heads-up.

"Cassidy Blossom, 22 years old. A jogger found her lifeless body this morning lying in a park in Queens. Everything so far implies that her heart was literally _ripped_ out of her chest."

"Werewolf?" Dean asks.

"Could be…"

Dean stomps on the Impala's accelerating pedal a bit harder, increasing its speed and the intensity of the engine's roaring.

"Now that I think of it," Sam stares at his brother. "New York City has always been avoided by us hunters, without explaining or asking ourselves why. We've almost never worked a case over there, and we've had lots of cases…"

"Long Island," Dean smiles. "So many memories."

"Isn't that the time when dad got you out of CBGB, all drunk and wasted?"

Dean blushes and clears his throat. He quickly resumes their previous conversation.

"So, what changed? Why now?"

"The English."

"They gave you this case?" Dean asks angrily.

"Yes, Dean, they gave me this case."

"Sure, the _App_ ," Dean mocks his brother.

Sam shows his signature disagreement expression and prepares a blunt reply. However, the ringing of his cellphone stops him. He sees the calling contact and sighs. _Mick Davies._

"Aren't you gonna' answer that?" Dean asks, knowing who the caller is. "Put it on speaker."

Sam turns down the music and answers the phone, turning the loudspeaker feature on.

"Yes, Mick?"

"Have you boys made it to New York yet?"

"Yes, well, you see," Dean meddles in. "Some of us don't use private jets, or portals. We like to get there the old-fashioned way."

"Nice talking to you too, Dean," Mick sighs in return. "I'm calling to warn you there's been an update."

"What is it?" Sam asks.

"For reasons unknown, our Men of Letters back home have asked for high discretion while we perform our operations in New York, so try not to draw too much attention while you're out there."

"What scares them so much?" Sam interrupts the Englishman.

"I honestly don't know," Mick complains. "The only answer they gave me was the word _confidential_. I believe it's because, just as you American hunters, we don't have too much data about the supernatural life in the big city."

For the first time in a long time, Sam and Dean show doubt on their faces. Silence invades the Impala once again.

"We simply need you to look into this girl's death without making too much noise. It would be the beginning of…"

"We understand, Mick," Sam reassures him. "Got any leads for us?"

"Call me when you get there and I'll send you all the files."

"Understood," Sam hangs up.

Dean stares at his brother in a mockingly fashion. Sam stares back at him, intrigued by his look.

"What?"

" _Understood?_ " Dean repeats his brother's sentence, using a poor imitation of his tone of voice. "Where'd that come from?"

"What about that?"

"Nothing, man, nothing," Dean smiles.

"You know, Dean, making friends is not such a bad idea, and neither is treating them well. If we're gonna' work together, they deserve at least that from our side."

"Whatever you say, man…"

Dean looks at the road, raises the player's volume and sinks his foot on the pedal.

* * *

 _NYPD Central Morgue, next day, 9:30 AM_

The Winchesters walk through the morgue's double glass doors, wearing long black coats lying over black suits, partially exposing white immaculate shirts and dark tinted ties. Their black shoes are extremely shiny.

Before reaching the reception desk, both gaze at their reflections, projected by the majestic mirror on the left wall. Dean admires his perfectly shaved face, seeing how his penetrating green eyes and his dark blonde short-cropped ivy-league hair shine with the morgue's dim yellow lights. He looks at Sam and laughs his long shaggy brown hair, knowing that he hasn't tended to it in months. On the other hand, he recognizes the suit fits him, despite his height and muscular constitution.

"May I help you, gentlemen?" They are greeted by the officer sitting behind the reception desk.

Sam and Dean get briefly distracted by the officer's beauty. Despite being dressed in a police uniform, her brown skin and her shiny black hair make her a woman worth looking at, aided by the smell of her perfume which mitigates the place's unbearable smell.

"Agents Kripke and Summers," Dean shows his fake FBI badge along with his brother. "We're here about a girl who was brought here recently. Cassidy Blossom."

"The girl who had her heart ripped off," she interrupts. "As a matter of fact, the detective assigned to that case is here in the building."

"Where can we find him?" Sam asks, clearing his throat beforehand.

"D-Block, Aisle 25-C. Take the corridor to my right, go down the first stairs you see, and then walk straight. You won't miss it".

"Thanks."

The Winchesters follow the officer's directions. Both notice the increasing darkness and dropping temperature with each step they take. The morgue's characteristic formaldehyde smell invades their noses. _I'm used to this shit,_ Dean thinks before going through the 25-C Aisle double doors.

"Agents," a voice from inside greets them.

Before them stands a big, middle aged African-American man. His height barely matches Dean's and his muscular constitution is noticeable, despite the blue shirt and brown leather coat he is wearing. His legs are covered by pants of the same color and material as his jacket, which partially conceal a pair of black boots. His face shows a shaped but untrimmed beard. Sam notices his NYPD detective badge hanging from his belt.

"Agents Kripke and Summers," Sam makes the introductions. Both brothers show their fake badges.

"Detective Garroway," the man introduces himself in return.

"We're here on Cassidy Blossom's case," Sam explains.

"I didn't know the FBI would take interest in a simple murder..."

"We've been following this guy quite some time now," Dean abruptly interrupts. "He's committed multiple murders in several cities using this same M.O. We think we're dealing with a serial killer."

"Right," the detective shows skepticism.

Garroway and the Winchesters stare at each other for a few seconds. The silence in the room is barely outmatched by the heaviness the air acquires. Both brothers clear their throats at the same time. _Shit,_ Dean complains.

"So, what have we got, detective?" Sam rubs his hands against each other.

"Follow me..."

Garroway reluctantly leads them towards the chamber in which Cassidy Blossom's lifeless body lays on an autopsy table. He gently removes the sheets covering her intimate parts, showing a big, heartless hole in her precordial area. He starts briefing them about the case.

"Cassidy Blossom, aged 22, Caucasian. She was found by a jogger yesterday morning, who says she found the girl lying over a pool of blood. We later confirmed it was her own.

"Time of death?"

"All things considered, between 03:00 and 05:00."

"What about that big hole in her chest?" Sam keeps his eyes on the corpse.

"That's the weird part about all of this," Garroway claims. "It's the first time I've seen this kind of wound, and I can't think of any kind of weapon that could do something like this to a human being. Maybe you could share your theories with…"

The detective's sentence is suddenly interrupted by his cellphone's loud ringing.

"Excuse me…"

While the detective is distracted with his call, Dean swiftly scans the corpse, looking for bite or claw marks, noticing the total inexistence of both. He then decides to search for dehumanization signs on the girl herself and looks for vampire fangs, werewolf claws or traces of sulfur, having equal results. Sam, on the other hand, keeps a lookout for Garroway, listening to a small part of his conversation in the process. He manages to hear the words _"I'm on my way"_ before the call is ended.

"Agents, something came up," Garroway explains. "The coroner said he'd be back in a few minutes in case you have questions for him. The forensic report's next to the body. If you find something worth sharing, please let me know."

Garroway hands his business card to the Winchesters. Sam grabs it and reciprocates the detective's gesture by giving him one of their own.

"Likewise, detective. Here's our number in case you have something for us."

Without further delay, Garroway walks towards the chamber's exit door and disappears. The Winchesters continue their own procedures.

"Finally," Dean grumbles.

"Let's focus on this before anyone else comes," Sam replies, grabbing the forensic report and silently reading it.

After double checking dehumanization signs, Dean scans Cassidy's lifeless body with his EMF detector, showing an absence of any slight signal.

"No claw or bite marks, no traces of sulfur, and no signs of vampirism or lycanthropy," claims Dean. "The EMF's dead on this chick, so no ghosts either. Nothing for us here other than this big hole in her chest."

"I've seen werewolf victims, and there's something that doesn't add up," Sam closes the forensic report.

"What do you mean?" Dean asks.

"Normally, these monsters rip their victims to shreds," Sam explains, still gazing at Cassidy's corpse. "Very few can control themselves during their feral state, and their savagery tends to reach other parts of the body while they subdue their victims. But, in Cassidy's case…"

"There's no sign of even the slightest struggle," Dean deduces, finishing his brother's sentence.

"The forensic report itself doesn't make any sense," Sam continues. "It says here that ribs and sternum are drawn forward, as if something burst from inside her. The hole completely goes through her, implying that the wound was caused from behind. You know that werewolves always attack from the front, right?"

"So, we're talking about a ninja werewolf killer?" Dean asks sarcastically.

"Man, seriously," Sam retorts with slight disapproval. "What I'm saying is that everything points out towards a planned killing. Her heart was just ripped out. No rage, no beastly instincts."

"A jealous, or annoyed, werewolf boyfriend then?"

"That makes a bit more sense," Sam smiles.

Dean respectfully covers Cassidy's exposed body, hiding the abyssal hole of destruction in her precordial area. Sam puts the forensic report back where he found it.

"Whatever this is, I doubt we'll find anything else here," Dean says. "I think it's time we paid her family a visit."

"Let's go."

Both brothers leave the building discreetly, failing to tumble into the reception officer they had met earlier. _Let's get the hell outta' here,_ Dean thinks while starting the Impala and driving off.

* * *

 _Blossom Residence, Howard Beach, Queens, 11:00 AM_

The Impala's roaring engine slowly lowers its revolutions while it stops near the sidewalk on one of the streets of Rockwood Park, right in front of the house corresponding to Cassidy Blossom's address. The Winchesters stare at the place, noticing a two floor mini-mansion with a big garden. The sky's pale gray color, along with an unbearable cold weather, make the walls' paler-than-white tint stand out enormously. A pitch black darkness can be seen through the windows, bringing it closer to haunted houses the Winchesters are used to visit in their hunts. A black iron gate lies at the entrance with two marble crucifixes at each side, and a statue of Jesus Christ hanging from the top frame.

"Wow, this is one religious family," Dean sighs sarcastically.

"Well, her file says that the Blossoms are devout Catholics," Sam explains. "Their ancestors were strong religious practitioners, highly stuck to traditions. The forensic report stated that Cassidy, at her age, hadn't…"

"Nope, don't say it," Dean interrupts his brother and flees the Impala.

Sam laughs at his brother and follows him. While walking through the stone-made path through the garden, the Winchesters notice a group of four black birds flying over them, which later land on the house's roof. Their position is so far away that none can discern between crows or dark pigeons.

"Creepy," Dean mutters.

They reach the house door and Dean beats his brother into ringing the bell. A bald, middle aged man swiftly answers.

"Mr. Blossom?" Sam cordially asks.

"Yes, that's me."

"Agents Kripke and Summers, FBI. We're investigating your daughter's case."

Mr. Blossom sighs in disdain, looks towards the inside of his house, and then lets the Winchesters in. Both brothers look at the man from tip to toes. They notice a slight resemblance to the dead Cassidy Blossom, especially in the skin color. His small blue eyes are hidden behind a pair of thick round glasses that make them look tiny from the outside. He wears a completely black set of sweater, shirt, fabric pants and shiny black shoes, similar to the ones the Winchesters include in their FBI outfits. _Quite a father,_ Dean thinks.

"Make yourselves at home, agents," Mr. Blossom sighs.

Sam and Dean quickly sit on both armchairs, leaving the couch for the house's owner. To their right, a lit fireplace casts flickering shadows all around the room, focusing its trajectory along the mahogany walls and marble floor, giving the brothers snatches of dark tinted expensive carpets and portraits depicting family members. Hanging on the wall in front of them, a big painting shows the very same man who opened the door, accompanied by his dead daughter and a beautiful woman sitting next to him.

"I suppose you'll be asking the questions," Mr. Blossom sits on the couch.

The Winchesters ask him about Cassidy's life, bringing up important subjects, such as relationships, daily activities and hobbies. According to her father, it turns out that Cassidy shared the family's faith and devotion by her own free will, sometimes even lecturing her parents when they committed what she considered small sins. She was an only child and, according to Mr. Blossom, he and his wife overprotected her using the strict rules of their religion. She had never stopped going to church while alive, and she enjoyed reading and everything related to art. She was, in fact, an Arts student in the Wells College in Bradford, where she shared a room with the only friend who didn't share her faith. He clarifies that the other woman in the big family picture is Cassidy's mother, deceased since almost a year ago due to leukemia.

"Did you notice any strange behavior lately?" Sam asks.

"We had a small argument the afternoon before she died," Mr. Blossom replies. "Her friend had invited her to a party in her parents' apartment and I didn't want her to go. However, she strongly insisted, saying it was a promise she had made. I had never seen her like that."

"Did she call you again?" Dean inquires.

"Sadly, no. Last time I saw my little girl alive was going to that party through the same door you guys came in. Next thing I got was a call from the police…"

A few tears come out of Mr. Blossom's eyes, compelling him to take his glasses off and clean them up. The Winchesters stay quiet for a few minutes. _Poor man,_ Sam thinks.

"I'm sorry, agents. This hasn't been easy at all…"

"We understand," Sam comforts him. "Believe me, we feel really sorry for what happened, and we're doing our best to get to the bottom of this."

"Do you know where we can find this _friend_ of hers?" Dean asks.

"Of course," Mr. Blossom swiftly answers. "When they weren't at college, they used to hang out in her parents' apartment. I bet she's still there, cleaning up the mess caused by that party."

Cassidy's father grabs a small notepad from his pocket and writes an address and a name on it. Sam manages to read the name before being handed the ripped page. _Annie Stillman._

"Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Blossom," he says, putting the paper in his pocket.

"I hope you catch the bastard who did this to my daughter."

"Don't worry, sir," Sam reassures him. "We will."

The Winchesters shake hands with Mr. Blossom one last time before leaving the premises. They start talking about their visit once they sit inside the Impala.

"Dude," Dean sighs while he starts the car. "I wouldn't want to be in his shoes…ever."

"Whatever happened at that party, it drove Cassidy Blossom to her death," Sam asserts. "Time we go pay that friend a visit."

"Let's go".

Dean bails out of the parking spot, making the Impala's tires screech.

* * *

 _Annie Stillman's apartment, Astoria, Queens, New York, 2:00 PM_

The Stillmans' home turns out to be an apartment in one of the buildings on 33rd Street, Astoria. Sam and Dean locate it on the second floor, noticing the place's vicinity to the park where Cassidy's corpse had been found. The Winchesters fail to notice the small doorbell on the wall to the right and knock on the door bare-fisted.

"Who is it?" a voice asks from the inside.

"FBI!" Dean shouts.

The sound of a rolling chain precedes the opening of the big apartment door. The Winchesters stand in front of a young, blond, green eyed girl, barely in her twenties. She wears a wide black sleeveless blouse which shows she is wearing no bra, making Dean slightly uncomfortable. Her well-shaped butt and legs are covered by black, tight spandex pants that reach out to her ankles, showing a pair of beautiful bare feet.

"Agents Kripke and Summers," Dean makes the introductions. "Are you Annie Stillman?"

"I guess you're here about Cassidy," the girl nods. "Come in."

The Winchesters enter the apartment. They notice the place all littered with red cups and plastic dishes, some of them upside down or piled and still with remains of their contents. Sam even trips on an empty Vodka bottle. His brother laughs at him.

"Jerk," Sam insults him.

The living room is furnished with modern IKEA tables, shelves, couches and armchairs. The walls are mostly adorned with self-made paintings, most of them representing landscapes. Dean notices three easels with unfinished canvases on them, all depicting the same dark-haired man staring at the viewer with big, penetrating gray eyes.

"Sit wherever you like," the girl says.

Both brothers sit on one of the three spot black couches in the living room. The girl lies on the one perpendicular to theirs.

"I was expecting a visit from any of you guys," she starts talking compulsively. "I didn't know this was gonna' happen. That guy didn't seem…"

"Wow, slow down," Dean stops her. "Start from the beginning."

Annie bursts into tears, making Sam and Dean wait patiently for her to catch her breath. She starts talking again once she recovers.

"I invited her to my birthday party so that she could have some fun and leave her house's strict rules for once. I wanted her to live a little, to meet people, to socialize. I couldn't accept I was Cassidy's only friend."

"What happened, then?" Dean interrogates her.

"That night, most off my guests were old friends of mine," she continues. "Cassidy was feeling strange at first, like if this was not her place. As the party went on, and after a few shots of Vodka, she started relaxing and socializing. I had never seen her so happy."

"But?"

"There was this guy, a guest, who set his eyes on her as soon as he saw her. Though he wasn't precisely one of the well-known ones, I will never forget his name. _Nick_ …"

Sam and Dean take a quick glimpse at each other while Annie keeps talking about the person she just mentioned.

"Nick and I had met days before, during a crazy night at a nightclub in Brooklyn, _The Pandemonium_. I was relieving my stress after an Arts project at the university, and decided to go there with some friends before getting home. Of course, Cassidy was not with me that day."

"So, what happened?" Sam asks.

"I stumbled onto Nick the moment I went to the bathroom, and thought we had liked each other. As the night went by, we chatted like, a lot, agreeing in almost every subject. I say we connected, and if it wasn't for my friend Julie not feeling so well, a lot more things would have happened…"

"Well," Sam interrupts her, stopping the conversation from taking that path. "How did Nick find you later, and how did he end up here?"

"I invited him, of course," Annie answers. "Before leaving the Pandemonium, we exchanged numbers, and I thought it would be nice to let him come to my party. I mean, the guy was handsome, and he seemed all right."

"What has Cassidy got to do in all this?"

"When Nick saw Cassidy, he stopped paying attention to me and focused on her. He handed her drinks, talked to her, made her laugh. It was the first time I had seen my friend talk to a man like that. She wasn't the Cassidy I knew, and that made me happy. But something happened…"

Annie starts crying again. Sam, in an act of humanity, hands her his handkerchief for her to dry her tears, then waits for her to catch her breath. Dean rolls his eyes and sighs.

"Nick kissed her," Annie whines. "He kissed her so passionately I thought he was gonna' swallow her. Cassidy just tagged along, until the kiss ended, and she felt guilty. Once it all passed, she left the apartment in a rush, without even looking back. I tried stopping her, seeing how late it was, but she had disappeared into the night. I assumed she had taken a cab home."

"What time did that happen?" Sam asks.

"It was almost 2 in the morning."

"And Nick?"

"I didn't see him again after that," Annie sighs.

"Do you know where he lives? Any address?"

"All I've got is his number, and his picture," Annie stutters, pointing out her unfinished canvases.

Both brothers look at the most complete of the three paintings. _So that's the guy_ , Dean scratches his chin. Sam takes a picture with his cellphone.

"Thanks for your help, miss Stillman," he clears his throat. "We'll keep in touch. In case something else comes to mind…"

Sam hands her his card, similar to the one they gave to the detective at the morgue. Annie escorts them to the door.

"Please find whoever did this to my friend," she begs. "Cassidy deserves justice…and peace."

"Don't worry, we will."

Both brothers leave the apartment and take the elevator to the ground floor, rapidly reaching the Impala. Once inside the car, Dean's cellphone starts ringing. Its screen shows a well-known caller _._

"What's up, Cass?"

"Dean, I'm in New York."

"What are you doing here?" Dean puts his cellphone on speaker.

"A, _friend_ , asked me for help in investigating a strange phenomenon here in New York," he answers using his characteristic deep voice. "I heard you were here as well, working on a case…"

"Yeah, it seems to be a ninja assassin werewolf killer," Dean says under his brother's eye rolls and weary sighs. "We're working on it."

"If you need any help, call me," Castiel says.

"Where are you now?" Sam interrupts.

"I'm waiting for my friend, sitting in a bar in Brooklyn. It has a very peculiar name."

"Would it be the _Pandemonium_ by any chance?" Sam smiles.

"Yes," Castiel is intrigued. "How do you know?"

"I think you could help us then, and save us some time."

Before explaining everything about the case and about the suspect known as Nick, Sam sends Castiel the picture he took from Annie Stillman's painting. He then asks him to learn everything he can at the bar. Dean swiftly starts the Impala and leaves the premises.

* * *

 _Galaxy Motel, Brooklyn, New York, late afternoon._

Sam works on his laptop while Dean leaves the shower in nothing but his towels. He opens the minibar and grabs a beer for himself.

"Man, the showers in this place are hot," Dean relaxes on the couch. "You should try it."

"While you were in there, _showering_ , I found some stuff on this Nick fellow," Sam says.

"And, what have you got?" Dean opens another beer for his brother. "Any news from Cass?"

"No, he hasn't called me yet," Sam replies. "But I did some digging on my own."

"Shoot."

"The number Annie Stillman gave us belongs to a man named Ronald… _Vujicic_ ," Sam raises his brows as he pronounces the name with difficulty. "According to his NYPD file, this guy is pending for trial on money laundering charges. In fact, he's been reported missing for months now."

"Quite a fellow, the guy with the weird name…"

"And that's not the best part," Sam continues. "Digging even deeper into the NYPD files, I discovered something really interesting. It turns out that Mr. Vujicic appears as a main suspect in the disappearance of one of his presumed associates a year ago. Guess who the victim is…"

Sam pushes the ENTER button, and turns his laptop into a position in which both he and his brother can see the screen. They gaze at the picture of the same fellow they had seen on the paintings. The pale face, penetrating gray eyes and ashen black hair are unique and unmistakable.

"Looks familiar?"

"Hello, Nick," Dean greets the picture on the screen.

"Nicholas Andrew Clay, 26, missing since last year under suspicious circumstances. Apparently, our friend Nick had been working for Mr. Vujicic for a few months, until he suddenly stopped showing up. Vujicic himself reported his disappearance to the police."

"That phone got an address?" Dean asks, finishing his beer.

"Yes," Sam writes the address in a piece of paper. "It corresponds to a penthouse in Upper West Side, Manhattan. It was recently bought by a young married couple."

"It's worth a shot," Dean claims.

"Let's go, then."

* * *

 _59_ _th_ _Street, Upper West Side, Manhattan, New York, late night._

Dean parks the Impala in front of a twenty story building located on 59th Street in Upper West Side, Manhattan.

"It's the penthouse we're after, right?" Dean asks.

"This is the address, all right."

The Winchesters get out of the car dressed in their respective FBI outfits. They admire the place's entrance, which consists of an enormous set of double glass doors surrounded by marble and steel pillars. _This place is classy,_ Dean briefly nods. He looks towards the top of the building, noticing a black, starless sky. The reigning darkness is only mitigated by the light coming from nearby apartments.

After grabbing their gear and filling their gun clips with silver bullets, the Winchesters walk through the big double glass doors, reaching an enormous lobby made of curved windows, steel and marble. They soon spot the empty desk where the concierge is supposed to be.

"Keep an eye out while I get us upstairs," Dean mutters.

Dean hacks the Concierge's computer almost instantaneously and activates the penthouse elevator. Sam raises his brows before his brother's actions.

"I'm sick of giving explanations today," Dean complains. "Let's get up there and see if we can finish this. This place gives me the creeps."

Both rush towards the penthouse access elevator and Dean swiftly pushes the button once inside. Right before the shaft closes, they see the concierge come out of the bathroom. He doesn't notice the intruders. _Thank nature for that,_ Dean smiles.

As the elevator reaches the 18th floor, an extremely fetid smell invades the cabin. Sam and Dean draw their pistols and cover their noses.

"Sulfur, and something else," Dean asserts, holding his precious brushed stainless steel Colt 1911. "It's like if there were many decomposing bodies together."

Once their noses get used to the smell, both aim their weapons at the door. The elevator's light flickers as it goes through the 19th floor, losing intensity the rest of the way and smelling more and more as they go up. It eventually stops at the 20th floor. The doors open slowly. _Here we go,_ Dean thinks.

They find themselves in front of the penthouse's big living room. The white marble floors show numerous wide blood stains, adorned by abundant groups of lit candles of all sizes placed in circular patterns that form a path towards a huge, lit fireplace. Their colors oscillate between red and black.

"What the hell?"

"This place is big", Sam mutters. "Let's split up, cover more ground."

"All right."

The Winchesters separate momentarily, slowly walking towards their respective sweeping areas. Dean goes through the living room step by step and minding his corners, while he watches his brother enter the kitchen. The splattered blood also reaches the marvelously crafted mahogany panels that adorn the walls, giving the entire house a hellish decoration. Lights flicker constantly, and the furniture is either messed up, burnt or destroyed. Words written in blood in a strange and unknown language adorn the walls and floors. A shut closet door shows numerous flies flying in circles outside, with a horrible death-like stench coming from inside.

"Let's see," Dean thinks loudly.

Dean swiftly opens the white mahogany closet door, aiming his gun at whatever could come out. However, all he sees are two lifeless, bloody corpses, hanging from racks by barbed wire. He distinguishes an African-American couple, man and woman, still dressed in their formalwear. _The stench and the flies indicate they have been dead for days,_ Dean covers his nose. _Man…_

His thoughts are interrupted by the voice of someone muttering incomprehensible words coming from the fireplace. _What the hell is going on here_? He asks himself. From where he stands, Dean manages to see the silhouette of a man sitting near the chimney, surrounded by a circle made of the same candles that decorate the place. He slowly walks towards the guy, keeping his gun's iron sights set on him. The muttering does not stop. When he reaches an acceptable distance, he distinguishes a man dressed in a long, black trench coat. His dark ashen hair looks disturbingly familiar. _Could it be…?_

"Nicholas Andrew Clay?!" Dean aims his gun at the man.

The fellow turns around, showing a small portion of his face and a daring smile. His eyes are even more gray and penetrating than in Annie Stillman's painting. _Oh, that's him all right,_ Dean aims his gun at the man. A blood drawn pentagram can be seen beneath his bare feet as he stands, which briefly distracts the hunter. He then sees his suspect disappear into thin air. _What the hell?_

Dean suddenly hears the screech emitted by ghosts when they pierce the veil. He drops his gun, replaces it with one of the iron pokers lying next to the fireplace and swings it in an arc behind him. A hand easily grabs the weapon.

"I don't wanna' hurt you, mundane," a manly voice says.

Dean finds himself struggling with a man other than his previous suspect. He distinguishes a blond, fit man, approximately his size, dressed in a black set of combat boots, tight jeans and a short-sleeved T-shirt. His skin shows black strange tattoos all over its exposed areas except his face.

"And who are you?" Dean stares at the man's eyes.

"None of your business…"

They both swiftly drop the poker and push each other away. The man then swiftly attacks Dean, throwing three punches at him with enough strength to pierce the air. The hunter avoids two of them. The third one reaches his left cheek and makes him stagger.

"So, that's how you wanna' play it?"

Dean breathes deeply, cracks his neck and rushes at his attacker. The man throws two other strong punches at the hunter, one being blocked and the other one avoided. The elder Winchester uses his adversary's opening to hit his ribs twice and his face once. A fistfight then ensues, in which none of the two have the advantage on each other.

At one point, Dean uses a small opening to throw a quick low kick at the man, getting him on his knees as a result. However, the attacker manages to hit the hunter's leg back with a swift kick and make him lose his balance. Both start struggling on their knees.

"Jace!" Dean hears another man's voice.

A quick glimpse at the door behind him lets Dean distinguish what seems to be an archer about to fire an arrow at him. He swiftly grabs his gun from the floor and fires five rounds in that direction, hitting nothing but the mahogany wall. _What the hell, man?_ Jace kicks his hand and makes him drop his gun anew.

Upon hearing the struggle, Sam comes to his brother's aid. A surprise kick coming from behind him makes him drop his firearm. He turns to face his attacker, finding himself before a girl with bright red hair, green eyes and a slim build, with tattoos on her exposed body parts. Her beauty, fragility and short height stop the hunter from retaliating. _Damn._

"I don't wanna' hurt you, lady."

"Don't worry," she strongly kicks Sam in the chest. "You can't."

The girl's kick is so strong that it stuns and knocks Sam down and blurs his sight. He barely manages to distinguish a black haired Caucasian woman dressed in black standing next to the redhead.

"Clary, they can see us."

"Something happened to our _Glamour_ ," the redhead says. "Let's go, we need to help Alec."

"What about Jace?"

"He can handle himself. Let's go."

Both women walk away and leave Sam lying on the floor. He tortuously stands up and sees Dean is still fighting the blond man. The pain on his chest prevents him from fully recovering his balance. _That girl sure hit me hard,_ he complains.

On his side, Dean keeps exchanging blows with Jace, none gaining the upper hand. At one point, both adversaries throw strong punches at each other's faces without any of them parrying. The hunter manages to throw the last punch, making Jace's mouth bleed.

"Man, it's been a long time," Jace growls.

"Jace, finish this already!" The archer's voice can be heard yelling from another room. "We have to go now!"

Dean watches as Jace's eyes acquire a shiny yellow tone for a few seconds. The hunter throws a couple of punches at his adversary's face. The blond man easily dodges them and hits him so hard he is sent flying across the room.

"All right, he isn't a ghost, and he's definitely not a human."

After strongly hitting the wall, Dean swiftly recovers and throws holy water at Jace with no apparent effect. His adversary strongly pushes him.

"Well, not Demon either," Dean mutters while lying on the marble floor.

The hunter rapidly crawls towards his gun. _One more like those and I'm dead,_ he thinks. Jace slowly approaches him from behind.

"You're good, mundane, I'll give you that," Jace taunts Dean. "Unfortunately, I can't stay and play."

Dean grabs his Colt and shoots his three remaining silver rounds at Jace's chest without missing. He watches in horror as his adversary's eyes turn yellow again and all three bullets are expelled from his skin. _What the hell is he?_

"Time to end this," Jace sighs.

Just as a third blow is about to reach him, Dean takes his angel blade out and slashes his attacker's face. The cut makes Jace flinch. The wound doesn't heal even after his eyes' yellow glow.

"So, _this_ is what works," Dean smiles.

Jace stares at Dean, breathes heavily and closes his fists. The cut on his face shows an intense white light emanating from the inside. _Well, I'll be damned, that's angelic grace,_ Dean remembers his past experience with celestials.

"So, Angel…"

"Slash human," Jace finishes Dean's sentence.

"Nephilim?!"

Though astonished by Jace's revelation, Dean stands ready to continue the fight using his angel blade. To his surprise, three other youngsters stand next to his adversary. The archer he had seen earlier is among them.

"They're not ordinary mundanes," Jace asserts.

"Jace, seriously, we don't need this," the archer complains. "Let's just wrap this up and get out of here."

Dean sees his brother drawing his angel blade and standing next to him, much to his relief. Sam recognizes the other two people at the enemy group, distinguishing the redhead girl who attacked him and the black haired woman who came afterwards.

"Careful, Sam, they're…"

"Nephilim," Sam interrupts his brother.

Dean stares at the dark haired woman. _Man, she's hot,_ he thinks while looking at her prominent cleavage, exposed by the shape of her dark dress.

"They seem to know a lot about us," she stares at the Winchesters.

"Believe me, lady, a bunch of Nephilim with lots of tattoos don't impress us," Dean stares back at her.

"And they can see our runes," she partially ignores Dean. "Great…"

Jace takes out a big, greenish sword out of nowhere, with runes carved all over its blade. The rest of his crew take out similar weapons.

"Man, those are really big swords," Dean mutters.

"Careful with their blades!" Jace shouts. "They seem small, but they can hurt us badly, and the Iratzes don't heal their cuts!"

Both teams face each other, weapons at hand and ready to attack. The reigning tension is overwhelming. A fight to the death is imminent.

"Ready, Sam?"

"Let's do this…"

Despite their low chances of winning the fight, the Winchesters charge against their numerous and intimidating Nephilim adversaries.


	3. Chapter 2: Hell's Bells

**CHAPTER 2: HELL'S BELLS**

The clash between swords makes the walls tremble. Each blow is stronger than the last. Angel blades hit the Nephilim's strange swords repeatedly, driven by impeccable swings from both sides. No group seems to gain the upper hand.

The Winchesters attack their adversaries relentlessly. However, their foes' impenetrable defense prevents them from laying a single cut. Their continuous efforts are useless against the Nephilim's strength, speed and battle style. Hope begins abandoning them.

"Damn, they _are_ fast," Dean tries catching his breath back.

"They sure know how to fight," Sam breathes heavily.

Noticing the Winchesters' tiredness, all four Nephilim charge against them. Instead of moving or running, Sam and Dean decide to hold their position. Both brothers look at each other's eyes. Their thoughts are the same. _This may well be it._

A loud gunshot is suddenly heard, followed by a strong and firm voice that stops everyone out cold.

"ENOUGH!"

The last person they expected to see appears before them.

"Cass?"

"Stop fighting, both of you," Castiel's voice tone is as dry as ever.

"Careful, Cass," Dean interrupts him. "They're Nephilim."

"Dean, listen to me…"

While Dean argues with Castiel, his brother notices two more people at the scene. One of them is a young, black haired man, dressed in casual teenage attires and standing in front of the Nephilim group, presumably stopping them from fighting. The other one is Luke Garroway, the NYPD detective they had met earlier at the morgue, holding his still smoking service weapon. Tons of questions roam through Sam's mind. _What's that detective doing here? What's Cass doing here? What the hell's going on?_

"Sam, Dean, I will explain everything soon, but now we've got to get out of here," Castiel firmly says.

"This place will be swarming with cops anytime now, and there are explanations I wouldn't like to give tonight," Garroway intervenes. "Right now, you two need to listen to Castiel."

"Oh, but you know each other?" Dean asks angrily.

"Dean, please…"

After hearing Castiel's plea, the Winchesters reluctantly put their weapons away. The still unknown young man walks near the angel.

"Everything all right here?"

"Yes, Simon," Castiel answers. "Everything's all right."

"You all need to get the hell out of here, now!" Garroway shouts after looking at his cellphone. "NYPD's minutes away from the building."

"We will all meet in an hour at this place," Castiel hands Sam a small business card. "I will explain everything and answer all your questions. Understood?"

Sam barely has time to read the words _"Jade Wolf"_ written on it before putting it away. Dean and Jace stare at each other eye to eye. The tension building up between them can be felt a mile away.

"Understood?!" Castiel raises his voice.

The Winchesters pick up their guns and slowly walk towards the elevator, passing near the Nephilim group. While Sam merely looks at them and passes by, Dean stands in front of them, stares at both women seductively and arrogantly taunts Jace.

"You guys are lucky he stopped us."

Dean sarcastically smiles before walking away. Sam rolls his eyes and emits a weary sigh before both go into the same elevator that had brought them up, emptying his lungs when the doors close and the trajectory down begins.

"Shit, that was weird," Dean mutters.

* * *

 _The Jade Wolf, Brooklyn, New York, Late night._

The Winchesters stand separated from the Nephilim group inside the Jade Wolf Chinese food restaurant. Castiel accompanies his longtime friends, Garroway and Simon stand beside the other group and Dean argues with Jace about the events at the penthouse. Everyone else stare at them.

"You hit me."

"You tried hitting me first."

"Really, guys?" Clary meddles in.

"Dean, stop," Castiel complains. "They are not our enemies."

"How can a group of Nephilim not be?" Dean asks angrily.

"We could say the same thing about you, mundanes," Jace reacts.

"Cass, where'd you meet these guys?"

"We met at the Pandemonium, _agent,_ " Garroway appears behind them, staring at both the Winchesters and the Nephilim group. "We did something pretty smart back there. It's called _talking_. You should try it sometime."

The Winchesters notice the place's emptiness with unease. The old wooden customer tables are poorly lit by some old round Chinese lamps, partially showing a substantial deterioration. _Moist or termites?_ Sam thinks. Dean grabs one of the menus on the bar and briefly browses through it.

"Dean, we should at least listen to what Cass has to say," Sam mutters.

"Oh, now you're on their side, Sam? You wanna' be friends with them too?"

"Simon and I will brief our people, Castiel," Garroway says, ignoring Dean's complaints. "Be quick. Remember, there's no time to waste."

Castiel sits with the Winchesters at one of the tables meant for clients. Both brothers stare at the angel. Many questions roam through their minds. The fallen seraph knows it and waits for them in silence. Dean decides to break it.

"You know them, Cass?"

"I met Simon and the detective at the Pandemonium. The Nephilim are part of an old story."

"Old story?" Sam sounds surprised. "Since when Nephilim roam the streets of New York?"

"I want you to know that the existence of this particular group was not exactly known to Heaven's authorities," Castiel sighs. "Theories, rumors and legends about them existed, but nothing had been confirmed so far. The fact of seeing them with my own eyes changes everything."

"What are you talking about, Cass?" Dean starts getting edgy.

"Some time in the medieval ages, there was a major invasion from Hell to this world," Castiel calmly explains. "Demon hordes led by Lilith and the Princes of Hell relentlessly consumed everything in their path. This event is known to us as _The Incursion._ "

"Yes, we knew that," Dean abruptly interrupts him. "Wyoming, the Devil's Gate. What's that got to do with this people?"

"The Devil's Gate was just the end of it," Castiel continues. "Before being locked up, the demons had laid behind a path of waste and destruction, causing Michael and the most warmonger angels' eagerness to intervene. Earth was straightly headed towards an apocalypse."

"And?"

"In order to avoid such disastrous outcome, God forbid all angels to walk the Earth and secretly gave the task to the archangel Raziel of saving humanity."

"Another archangel?" Dean asks. "I thought there were only four of them. How come we never met this one?"

"It is said that this particular archangel can not walk the Earth, not even by claiming a vessel, unless he is specially summoned. It seems that God used his prophet to enlighten the mind of one particular human, granting him the tools and the knowledge to summon Raziel. Only then would he be able to obtain his help and repel the demons."

"Repel them how, exactly?" Sam asks.

"By creating an army of Nephilim."

"You're not really saying that these schoolboys are…"

"Yes, Dean. Raziel's blood runs through their veins."

The Winchesters stare at Castiel in shock. They fearfully remember Lucifer's unborn and unfound child inside Kelly Kline's womb, as well as the power the offspring might hold. Their brows almost reach the sky. _Do all of them really have archangel grace?_

"Let me get this straight," Dean stares at Castiel. "We have a group of potential _Lucifer Juniors_ running around New York, and we didn't even know?"

"It isn't exactly like that," Castiel replies.

"THEN HOW THE HELL IS IT?!"

"Dean, calm down. There's nothing to worry about."

"We're sitting here, at a Chinese food restaurant, next to a group of damn Nephilim," Dean complains. "And not sired by angels, no. ARCHANGELS! Tell me how the hell am I not supposed to worry?!"

"Dean's right, Cass," Sam says. "We've seen what those with angel grace can do. A Nephilim sired by an archangel could tear the world apart as we know it, and I see four of them."

"Actually, there are many more," Castiel claims.

"This just gets better and better," Dean angrily mutters. "A whole family of super Nephilm. Great…"

"Something doesn't add up, though," Sam scratches his chin. "If they have archangel grace as you say, how come Dean and I could hold our own against them back at the penthouse? I mean, he fought the blond guy blow for blow before he pumped up. And even then, he could hold him off with an angel blade."

"That's what I have been trying to tell you," Castiel replies. "They are not pure Nephilim. They were not conceived through Raziel's bond with a human. They were created."

"Created how?" Sam grows edgy.

"Through a ritual that merges human and angel blood."

"Like Azazel did with me?"

"Similar, except they don't have to drink angel blood to maintain or bolster their power," Castiel calmly explains. "These Nephilim channel their angelic grace through celestial runes, which are shown to them through books and visions provided by the angels serving Raziel. The tattoos you see on their bodies are the representation of those runes."

"That explains a lot," Sam mutters to his brother.

"Well, the guy they call _Jace_ seemed pretty strong to me," Dean asserts. "I don't know if I would still be here if the fight had gone on a little longer."

"The grace inside them does give them supernatural abilities. They are stronger, faster and more resilient than a human is, and they can use the celestial runes, which could be fatal if a human tries to use them. On the other hand, since the grace inside them is not purely theirs, it does not bind strongly to their human soul. Contrary to pure Nephilim, their power rarely exceeds the one of a common angel."

Sam and Dean begin to feel a bit less threatened by the Nephilim group. _They are not that dangerous, then_ , Dean thinks while he watches them talk to Garroway and Simon. Sam asks Castiel another question that roams through his mind.

"Anyway, why are you in New York, Cass?"

"A friend from Heaven asked me to come investigate an alarming celestial energy spark right here in this city. We were supposed to meet at that Pandemonium club, but he never came. Instead, I ran into Simon and detective Garroway, while investigating the man you asked. They inexplicably saw through my FBI agent cover very easily."

"I wonder why _that_ happened," Dean smiles with sarcasm.

"Well, it wasn't hard to figure out that _agent Beyonce_ doesn't exist," Garroway walks near the table where the Winchesters are sitting. "As for you two, it only took a phone call."

"You're good," Dean sarcastically brags. "Tell me, _detective_ , do you know what we're dealing with here?"

Garroway suddenly shows a set of teeth well-known to the Winchesters. _Werewolf_ , both think at the same time. As his teeth go back to normal, the rest of the Nephilim crew walk near the table. Simon smiles at them, showing a pair of shiny vampire fangs.

"You guys should know that Garroway and Simon are not Nephilim, but aren't human either."

"No shit," Dean snorts.

"Garroway is a werewolf and Simon is a vampire. They work with the Nephilim, doing exactly the same thing you do. They hunt monsters and save people."

"Yeah, sure," Dean smiles. "I bet they even have a team name. Which is it? _The Justice League? The Avengers_?"

"Well, they call themselves _Shadowhunters_ ," Simon intervenes, despite Garroway and the Nephilim's disapproving stare.

"Wow, they _do_ have a name," Dean snorts. "Nephilim acting as hunters, werewolves working as cops. New York is quite a circus. No wonder our guys avoid this place."

Just as with Simon and his crew, Dean earns Sam's eye rolls and weary sighs. A senseless argument ensues afterwards with neither group willing to give in to Castiel and Garroway's soothing attempts. After a few minutes and a few chance-giving requests, the Winchesters and the Nephilim agree to knock it off. The werewolf detective decides to make introductions.

"I think you guys know Jace and me pretty well. The rest of the crew here are Clary, Isabelle, Alec, and of course, Simon."

"Sam and Dean Winchester," Sam brings his hand forward under his brother's weary glaze.

Sam's hand remains unshaken for a few seconds. No Nephilim reciprocates his gesture. However, one of them breaks the ice right before the hunter tries to pull it back, showing a warm and kind smile.

"Clary Fairchild. And I'm sorry for, you know, what happened before…"

"It's all right," Sam smiles back.

Clary's apparent young age, her evident beauty and her apparent fragility make Sam wonder about what had happened back at the penthouse. _I can't believe this little girl kicked my ass like that,_ he silently smiles. Her pale skin, slim constitution and small size are confusing, especially to those who would dare challenge her. Far from fear, her green eyes transmit a soothing feeling of peace. Her clothing remains simple and conservative, limited to an olive green jacket, black shirt and dark blue jeans, giving her the appearance of a simple college girl. The tattooed runes on her exposed skin parts remind him of her true nature.

"Well, it seems we're starting to get along," Simon sighs, looking at Sam and Clary's prolonged handshake with jealousy.

"Now that everyone's finally calm, we can tend to the real problems," Garroway says. "For starters, I'd like to know what business you hunters have here in New York."

"Well, we didn't completely lie to you, detective," Sam answers. "Cassidy Blossom's case popped up on our radar, and we suspected a werewolf attack. We decided to take it."

"And what does the penthouse have to do with Cassidy Blossom?"

"Our investigation led us there, more specifically to Nicholas Andrew Clay,or _"Nick"_. We suppose he's the one who killed her."

"It's just as I thought," Garroway turns his sight towards his group. "It seems it's all connected."

"Mind sharing your thoughts with us too, detective?" Dean seems annoyed.

"Around a week ago, the NYPD got an anonymous tip about a man killing people and feeding on them, apparently at random. I forwarded the info to the Shadowhunters, so that they could handle him their way. Turns out the bastard was more slippery than we all thought."

"And how did _you_ end up at the penthouse?"

"Our institute's got state-of-the-art tracking software," Jace intervenes. "Using various algorithms, we could track him down the minute he purchased a greenockite crystal."

"Greeno…what?"

"It's a sulfur based mineral," Jace smiles, mocking Dean's ignorance. "Its crystallized form is extremely rare and emits an almost unique radiation pattern. There are records that documents its use in various rituals, especially summoning ones."

"Dean, a sulfur based mineral, plus the stuff we saw at the penthouse, could only mean…"

"Our friend Nick was summoning demons," Dean ends his brother's muttered assertion.

"While you two cowboys were fighting Jace, Clary and I went to help Alec contain the summoned demons," Isabelle says. "However, there was one we couldn't stop, and now it's running loose here in New York."

"How'd he get through you guys?" Simon meddles in.

"He was extremely fast, like none we had ever seen before. He barely gave us time to see him."

"Finding that monster is priority one," Alec says. "After that, we can focus on dealing with the damn vampire who summoned it."

"Vampire?" Sam asks. "What vampire? Was there anyone else at the penthouse?"

"Nick _is_ a vampire," Isabelle stares at Sam. "He's dangerous, and he's one of our institute's most wanted. The file we have on him makes him responsible for at least two dozen murders among mundanes during the last year, some of them not even with feeding purposes. Sometimes he kills just for the fun of it."

"What's with you guys and the word _mundane_?" Dean complains. "Can't you just say _human_?"

" _Mundane_ is our code word that stands for humans without abilities or knowledge concerning the supernatural."

"Oh…"

Dean's seductive spirit compels him to strip Isabelle naked with his sight. He indiscreetly stares at her female attributes, despite her gazing back at him with her piercing brown eyes. Her perfect and voluptuous curves give a rather nice form to the delicate lace of her black short dress, which shows a moderate amount of her cleavage and thighs. Her dark hair merges with her garments, and the dark red color over her lips make the beauty of her face stand out, strengthened by her serious and confident expression. Her tattooed runes shine under the Chinese lamp next to her. _She sure is hot,_ he mutters.

"There's something I've been asking myself," Alec stares at the Winchesters. "How could _they_ see us at the penthouse? What happened to our _Glamour_?"

"Nick must have cast a spell that allowed him to steal it from us," Jace asserts. "That must be how he escaped."

"Yeah, but despite that, we have _The Sight_ ," Clary says. "How could we not see him head out?"

"I believe Jace is right," Isabelle says. "Seeing how all four of us became visible to the Winchesters' eyes, the spell must have been strong enough to steal the Glamour from everyone there. Add a bit of vampire celerity to that and you practically become invisible to anyone or anything's eyes."

"What's _Glamour_?" Sam asks.

"Glamour is a kind of illusory magic that conceals some aspects of the supernatural world from the human eye," Alec says. "We Shadowhunters use it to remain invisible to mundanes, but some creatures use it for fun, or to trick their prey. You can only see through Glamour if you possess _The Sight_."

While the Winchesters listen to Alec's explanation, Castiel walks near them and swiftly touches both their foreheads, causing them a mild sparking sensation. Dean shows discomfort.

"What was that?"

"You should be able to see through most illusions now," Castiel mutters. "You're going to need it, especially during your stay in New York."

"You sure that won't kill them?" Jace asks. "Most mundanes that have been granted The Sight without proper preparation have gone insane."

"They are prepared enough," Castiel replies.

"Well, it's been nice knowing y'all," Dean walks away in front of everyone's disapproving stare, including his brother's. "Sam and I have got some vampire-werewolf serial killer to bring down. I'll be seeing you guys in, what, a thousand years? Nope, too soon."

"Wow, wow, wow," Garroway stops him. "The deal I made with Castiel here included the help of you two fellas, in exchange for us helping him with his _"thing"_. We could really use your expertise here."

"HELP FROM THEM?!" Jace and Dean yell simultaneously.

"It's not a negotiation. We got a lot of ground to cover, and there's a demon on the loose with god knows what intentions. Plus there's this _Nick_ guy."

All members of the Nephilim group show the same long faces. Sam and Dean reciprocate the expression when hearing they'd be working alongside a bunch of kids carrying angel blood in their veins. _We worked with all sorts of monsters, but never with Nephilim,_ Dean thinks. Sam tries accepting the situation, asserting that there are more players on the table. _There's something bigger going on here,_ he thinks before cracking the ice between both sides.

"Well, where do we start?"

"Clary, I need you with me and Castiel," Luke rapidly says. "We need to head to the Institute, I'll explain along the way. Alec, you lead the rest, and use the Winchesters' help."

"Hey, who said we would take orders from…"

"Dean, let's listen to their ideas and at least see if they make sense," Sam interrupts his brother.

"All right," Alec sighs. "I need two teams. One goes back to the penthouse, and see if we can find any leads regarding Nick or the demon's whereabouts. The other one goes towards Downworlder areas, see if you could ask around about any of this."

"Raphael can help us with that," Simon says. "If there's anyone who knows about every single vampire in New York, it's him. I doubt he'll want to talk to any of us, though, since the sword..."

"He'll talk to me," Isabelle firmly interrupts him. "I'll head over to his place."

"Izzy, I don't think you should…"

"I'll be fine. Besides, I won't go alone."

"Well, Simon is right when he says Raphael doesn't want to see any Shadowhunter near him," Clary says. "I don't know which one of us you could take with you."

"One of the Winchesters will accompany me."

Dean walks near her, hoping to get picked for the ride. However, before he could open his mouth, Isabelle stares at Sam.

"Sam, is it?"

"Yes?"

"Since we're going to work together, I'd like you to come along. I don't want to walk into a vampire's house on my own."

Sam agrees with her as Dean's facial expression grows sour. _Oh man, Sam gets to Scooby Doo with the hot one,_ he silently complains. _What'd she see in him?_

"With that matter settled, the rest of us will head back to the penthouse," Alec continues his briefing. "Back there, we didn't get the chance of taking a closer look at the spot where demons came out. We surely missed a lot of things."

"Is the mundane coming?" Jace arrogantly asks.

"Jace, save it," Alec complains. "You can come, hunter. But if you get hurt, it's on you. Is it clear?"

"Crystal," Dean smiles, looking at Jace in a threatening way.

"When you're done, we meet back at the Institute. Good luck to everyone."

* * *

 _Back to the Penthouse, 59th Street, Upper West Side, Manhattan, New York, 4:00 A.M._

Dean parks the Impala in front of the well-known tall building. Simon sits in the front. Jace and Alec occupy the back seat.

"Remind me again," Jace complains. "Why did we have to drive all the way? A portal would have gotten us here in seconds."

"I have a bad experience with portals and teleportation," Dean replies. "We drive. End of story."

"Well, at least we drove on a classic," Simon meddles in. "Which year's your Chevy? 67, right?"

"I like you better already, kid," Dean smiles.

"Well, you could have at least turned the music a bit down," Jace complains again. "Listening to ACDC inside a car with you guys wasn't exactly the way I wanted to spend the night."

"I wanted to go with the hot brunette, so we're even."

"HEY!" Alec yells out of a sudden. "Both of you knock it off! And show some respect, hunter! You're talking about my sister."

Everyone remains silent in front of the Nephilim's leader's scolding, with the only emitted sound being Jace's weary sigh. Alec then leans towards the Impala's front seat, looking at the dark windows corresponding to the penthouse through the windshield.

"We go in, check out the place, and head out," He mutters. "We gear up, just in case."

"Those can openers you carry, do they kill demons too?" Jace arrogantly looks at Dean.

"They hurt you, didn't they?" Dean checks his gun's ammo and hands it over to Simon

"Oh, no, no, no," the vampire rejects it. "I haven't carried or shot a gun in my life. Besides, what good would it do against demons?"

Dean ejects the clip, pulls out the first round and shows it to Simon. The young and unexperienced vampire notices the pentagram carved on the bullet's tip. Jace and Alec look at it with curiosity.

"Devil's trap bullets," Dean brags. "Shoot one of these into a Demon's head, he'll be more frozen than a polar bear. Still don't want to carry it around?"

Simon tries grabbing the gun, but Dean pulls it out from his grasp.

"Too late, kid. Try not to break a fang up there."

"Are you done?" Alec gets edgy. "Can we go up there now?"

All members of the newly formed team get out of the car and walk towards the building entrance. Dean notices the two NYPD officers standing at each side of the double doors. _Crap_ , he complains while reaching for his fake FBI badge. _Let's see what bullshit I can pull on these two_.

"Agent Summers, FBI. We come to check out the penthouse."

Both officers ignore him, looking everywhere but his position. Dean raises his voice while repeating his sentence. Jace looks at him in a mocking kind of way.

"You do know they can't listen to you, right? We're _Glamoured_."

"Very funny," Dean sighs while putting away his fake badge. "Couldn't you just mention that before…?"

"The look on your face is priceless."

"Quit screwing around," Alec scolds them again. "Let's get this over with."

All four of them use the elevator to reach the penthouse, noticing the building manager's oddity look at the presumably empty cabin. Upon reaching the 19th floor, Dean smells the same stench as before, this time a bit more attenuated. _It seems they cleaned up the place,_ he thinks. Jace and Alec remain silent during the trip.

"Finally," Simon sighs with joy when the screen marks the 20th floor.

The elevator doors open slowly, giving the team enough time to pull their weapons out. The pitch black darkness forces Dean to turn his flashlight on, while Alec and Jace draw circular patterns on their necks with strange wands, slightly burning their skins in the process. Dean looks at them with strangeness.

"Runes that allow us to see in the dark," Jace mutters.

"Oh."

"Let's head straight to the portal," Alec whispers. "Look alive, everyone."

Dean, Simon and Jace nod before slowly heading towards the room mentioned by Alec. They all notice the absence of the candles and the bloody corpses, as well as the recently mopped floor and clean walls. However, some remaining blood stains shine under the hunter's flashlight. The smell of death and putrefaction remains present.

The team enters the room where the portal had been presumably open, noticing it is devoid of any furniture or lamps. A big, black stain covers almost the whole floor, showing the shape of an explosion. Its darkness is not mitigated by the light emitted by the flashlight. Dean touches the blackness, noticing it is a mixture of ashes and soot, well stuck to the wooden planks.

"Simon, do you sense anything?" Alec asks.

"I don't feel any traces of blood or demonic energy," Simon replies. "Just a room with a lot of burning smell."

"This is the place the demons came through," Alec claims. "There were five in total. Four of them were Eidolons. As for the fifth one…"

"What's an Eidolon?" Dean asks.

"It's the name we give to a certain class of demon," Alec explains himself. "They don't have any form of free will, and their existence is limited to following orders coming mostly from high demonic entities. They are normally easy to handle, but some of them possess unique abilities that could prove to be dangerous."

"Right," Dean says. "Was the fifth one an Eido…thingy?"

"It was a species none of us had seen before," Alec continues. "It was able to easily send Clary, Izzy and me flying across the room, and then disappear without leaving a trace."

"Do you remember any details? Flickering lights? Room tremor? The color of its eyes?"

"It happened barely in a few seconds. The walls trembled, as they normally would with the opening of a demonic portal, and there were no lights here to notice their flickering. However, I can assure you it was pretty big, and it disappeared in a void and instantaneous way."

"Any of this rings any bells?" Jace asks.

"Well, Sam and I have dealt with all sorts of demons, even elite ones. However, we have never seen a summoning that could cause this type of damage. Besides, eeeh…"

"Alec…"

"Alec, correct," Dean apologizes. "What Alec saw isn't a trademark for a specific type of demon. All we've seen so far, including Knights and Princes of Hell, have the ability to teleport."

"Well, it must have been an important demon," Jace asserts. "Remember all the blood, the human sacrifices, the pentagrams, the sigil, the messages in _Gehennic_ written on the walls…"

"Gehennic?" Dean raises his brows. "Is that a language? Can you translate?"

"I thought you knew about it, given the experience you guys have with demons…"

"Was there _anything useful_ written on the walls?" Dean tries cutting Jace's crap.

Jace pulls out a cellphone from inside his pocket. He swiftly opens the image gallery, showing a group of recently taken pictures of the penthouse when the bloody decor was at its most. The first pics to show up are the strange wall-written texts, with blood still dripping from the characters' bottoms.

"Before trying to get the jump on Nick, I had the chance of taking some pictures, focusing mostly on the texts. I figured out that most of them showed one unique sentence which repeated itself over and over again."

"What sentence?" Simon asks with curiosity.

" _We, children of the dark, humbly ring the bells of Hell._ "

"Nick sure rang them," Dean mutters.

"There's this word, this sole word I can not translate in these texts, and it appears in three different spots," Jace says. "Alec, a little help?"

" _Cham…Sa…'El…_ " Alec tries reading the text from Jace's opened cellphone image.

"You know its meaning?"

"No, not a clue," Alec sighs. "I'm sure that someone at the Institute knows. We'll figure it out when we head back."

"Well, what we can all agree on is that there's nothing else to see in this room," Dean asserts. "What do you say we check the rest of the penthouse in case we missed something?"

The rest of the crew agrees with the hunter, covering each one a room. The sounds emitted by Simon's vampire celerity can be heard all over the penthouse, being discreetly observed by Dean. _This is new,_ he mutters. _I've never seen a vamp' move so fast. We ought to be careful in case we run into one of these in the future._ After almost ten minutes of searching, all four team members gather at the lobby with empty hands. They all agree that the place has been cleaned in a worrisome way.

"Someone was here before us," Alec concludes. "They just left the ashes and the empty furniture. Everything else just disappeared."

"We won't find anything else here, that's for sure," Dean says. "I hope Sam and Isabelle had more luck."

"Ah, you do remember _her_ name?" Simon smiles.

"Dude, you just sounded like the stupid party kid that says _"I think Dean likes that girl"_ , out loud…"

"Whatever," Alec sighs. "Let's head back to the Institute."

"We drive!" Dean startles him.

"Yeah, all right, as long as we don't have to listen to ACDC all the damn way," Jace complains. "You got anything from that British band, The Rolling Stones?"

"You just went up a step in my respect ladder…"

* * *

 _Raphael Santiago's apartment, Midtown, Manhattan, New York, 4:00 A.M._

After walking through a portal created at the Jade Wolf, Sam and Isabelle find themselves in front of a strong and varnished brown wooden door. Sam notices they are standing in a corridor belonging to the upper floors of an apartment building, situated somewhere in Manhattan.

"I will do the talking," Isabelle barely looks at Sam's face. "The only thing I need from you is not to leave me alone with him, and stop me if I do something…unconventional. Understood?"

"Something like what, exactly?" Sam observes the newly formed rings under Isabelle's eyes. "Are you all right?"

"Listen, I didn't bring you with me for small talk or becoming friends. I just picked you because I don't like to be seen like this by my people, and your brother wouldn't stop staring at me with sexual interests. Just do as I say, ok?"

"All right."

"Just so you know, Raphael is a vampire, and the leader of one of New York's most powerful clans," Isabelle breathes heavily. "He hasn't killed anyone, and he has helped us in many cases, some of them involving his own people. Don't even think about pulling any of your hunter stuff here."

Sam raises his brows upon hearing Isabelle's words. _If he's a clan leader, he must be old,_ he thinks while reluctantly agreeing to the Nephilim's terms. She decides to try knocking on the door. It opens before her fist reaches the oak.

The man on the other side doesn't impress Sam. _He doesn't look that old_ , he thinks. To the hunter's eyes, he seems both handsome and elegant. His black hair matches his eye color, and ais haircut, along with his well shaved face, give his symmetrical traits a clean and elegant touch. His black silk shirt and dressing pants shine intensely under the corridor's light.

"Raphael."

"What are you doing here, Isabelle?"

"May I come in?"

"Not at this moment," the man tries closing the door. "Even less if you bring a Winchester with you."

"We didn't come here to fight," Sam makes a peace and soothing arm gesture. "We only need your help."

Raphael lowers his sight and breathes heavily. Then he looks straight at Isabelle' brown eyes and darkened eyelids. He pushes his arm against his house's barely open door.

"We really need to speak with you," Isabelle whispers. "I know what I said, what happened back at the Institute, but I need your help, just this once. I promise I will not bother you again."

Raphael sighs before opening the door, showing mistrust and resentment. Sam courteously lets Isabelle in first, before entering the vampire's apartment. _Here we go,_ he thinks while taking a quick look at the place.

Sam notices that Raphael's home has nothing to do with the vampire nests he's used to see. The apartment is quite big, and it's equipped with modern appliances. The kitchen can be clearly seen from the entrance, with its counters simulating a bar bearing its three modern stools. A big L-shaped red couch lies in the middle of the living room, where the house owner invites them to take a seat. The lighting is purposely dim.

"May I offer you something to drink?"

"No, thanks," Isabelle answers. "We're good."

"Well, Isabelle, this isn't easy for any of us. Let's just cut through the chase."

Sam notices Isabelle and Raphael staring at each other. The Nephilim's upper eyelids slowly succumb to his mere appearance, and her pupils travel all around his body. _What the hell is going on with these two?_ He asks himself before touching her shoulder, allowing her to return to reality. Both of them clear their throats and Isabelle starts speaking.

"We need information about one of your guys."

"Is he dead, or does he still breathe?" Raphael asks with hostility.

"Unluckily, this one's alive, and involved into some serious stuff," Isabelle regains her breath. "He goes by the name _Nick_."

"That doesn't say much," Raphael says. "There are many _Nicks_ among the New York vampire community."

"Nicholas Andrew Clay," Sam intervenes, in front of Isabelle's weary gaze. "Gray eyes, pale skin, prominent cheeks."

"Hearing his full name was enough. What do you want with him?"

"We're after him for several mundane murders," Isabelle answers. "Plus he has recently summoned a demon that's running loose on the streets of New York."

Raphael diverts his sight from Sam and Isabelle. He breathes heavily, scratches his hair and looks back at them right after. Sam notices rings under his eyes as well.

"Nicholas was never part of my clan," he says. "I don't know who sired him, but I know it happened almost a year ago. He joined Camille."

"And Camille is now behind bars," Isabelle deduces. "He's either leading the clan, or he's gone rogue."

"Months before the Clave locked up Camille, she had Nick cast out from her clan," Raphael continues. "He's gone rogue since way before."

"Who's _Camille_?" Sam asks.

"Camille is another vampire clan leader here in New York," Isabelle answers. "She was incarcerated by the Clave for violation of The Accords, and for turning a mundane without consent or authorization."

Sam wrinkles his face and raises his cheeks. _Another clan? And what's that about The Accords?_ Isabelle notices his unawareness.

"I'll explain everything on the way back," she tells the hunter, then she turns back to Raphael. "Do you know why Camille banned him?"

"I have no idea, but to be cast out by her…"

"I understand," Isabelle interrupts him. "You wouldn't happen to know where to find him, do you?"

"I haven't got the slightest clue," Raphael sighs. "Sorry I can't be of much help to you."

"It's all right."

Isabelle stands up, followed by Sam and Raphael. The latter walks them towards the door. Before reaching it, the vampire firmly grabs the Nephilim's hand under her weary stare. The hunter reaches out for his gun.

"That guy, Nick, seems dangerous," Raphael closely whispers. "Be careful out there, Izzy."

"Don't worry," Isabelle softly withdraws her hand. "I can take care of myself."

"Winchester!" Raphael raises his voice. "Take care of her, please."

Sam limits himself to briefly nod. The last mutual stare between Raphael and Isabelle seems endless. Goodbyes between them remain silent.

Upon reaching the corridor, Isabelle grabs her cellphone and makes a call. A portal immediately appears.

"Let's head back to the Institute," she says. "I will explain everything you need to know there."

"As you wish."

Isabelle goes through it first. Right before entering the portal's blackness, Sam notices Raphael standing in the middle of the hallway, staring at the female Shadowhunter with genuine concern. _Something big must go on between them_ , he mutters before going through.

* * *

 _Shadowhunter Institute, Manhattan, New York, 4:00 A.M._

Castiel stands in front of a big cathedral with Clary and Garroway. The reigning darkness prevents the color of the walls to be distinguished. However, the light coming from within makes the window decorations bloom. Most of them represent battles between angels and demons with a particularly gothic touch. The name of the place is engraved on the enormous double doors, using a beautiful and stylish font.

Castiel notices Clary's staring. The Shadowhunter's green eyes scour his very appearance from top to bottom, taking a special interest in his back. She even brings herself to touch him in that area, as if she is looking for something. The fallen Seraph remains still and frowns with discomfort.

"What are you doing?

"You say you're an angel," Clary stops touching him. "I can feel your essence, but your wings…"

"What about them?"

"They look like if they had been clipped, burnt and torn to shreds."

Castiel looks away and stares at the moist ground beneath him. He then sets his sights back on the cathedral.

"This is exactly the place the heavenly energy spark was detected."

"The time and date you gave us match the Soul Sword's activation," Garroway explains. "Many Downworlders died that day. If not for the hidden runes on the cathedral's walls, the blast would have been bigger."

Castiel shows a certain degree of uneasiness, scouring the cathedral from top to bottom several times.

"Do you have the sword now?"

"It disappeared after we brought the Shadowhunter who used it to justice," Clary notices the fallen angel's concern. "What worries you, Castiel? Is there something we don't know?"

"The Soul Sword, as you call it, is a divine weapon that can channel and discharge pure heavenly energy here on Earth. But to do so, it requires strong magic, or lots of angelic grace. Tell me, who managed to activate it?"

"Jace did, with a little help from the Institute's celestial energy reactor. But the one who used it on Downworlders, the one who set us all up, was my father, Valentine Morgenstern. Jace just thought he could destroy it with his touch."

"That explains…lots of things. Thank you."

Castiel's tension seems to lower after Clary's explanation. His eyebrows go back to the soothing position they are usually on. He slowly approaches the cathedral doors.

"I need to see if traces of heavenly energy remain," he says. "May we go in?"

Clary and Garroway take him through the immense double doors, entering into an enormous lobby filled with computers and holographic interfaces. The people manning the diverse posts are perceived as Nephilim by Castiel's angel sight. _This must be the rest of them_ , he thinks while taking a detailed look at the place. Both his hosts smile at his awe.

"Welcome to the New York City Shadowhunter Institute."

The strong lighting, alternated between electricity and widely filled chandeliers, blinds Castiel for a few seconds. Numerous computers and holographic interfaces lie at the center of the lobby. Numerous runes lie on and within the walls, most of them representing known warding sigils against demons and other night creatures, perceivable only by the angel's unique sight. Various hanging paintings depicting angels defeating demons in combat stand out to his eyes, as well as the four giant arched frames leading to adjacent areas.

Castiel's entrance causes a great impression on the present Nephilim. They kneel before Castiel, making him visibly uncomfortable. He quickly urges them to stand up through arm gestures.

"All right, gentlemen," Clary disperses the curious crew. "He's an angel, fallen, but an angel. We owe him respect, and that includes not bothering him."

Castiel sighs while he sees the Nephilim crew dispersing and manning back their posts.

"We hold celestial beings in high esteem here," Clary mutters.

"I can see that."

"I met an angel once, Ithuriel," She keeps explaining. "We rescued him from Valentine's grasp, who was planning to use him to activate the Soul Sword. Contrary to you, he did conserve his wings."

"I heard about him," Castiel says. "Ithuriel is one of the seraphs under the command of the archangel Raziel. It is rumored that he's one of his most prominent warriors, and bears a respectable reputation in Heaven. I haven't had the honor of meeting him, though."

"Heaven's a big place, huh?" Garroway asks.

Castiel ignores the detective and focuses his sight on the enormous lobby. He slowly reaches the center, extends his arms and closes his eyes for a few seconds.

"I can't feel the slightest trace of celestial energy, and the runes inside the walls seem intact. It seems the sword was not used in its full capacity. You were very lucky."

"Not everyone was," Garroway sighs.

A portal suddenly opens near them through which Isabelle and Sam emerge. Clary hugs her partner and friend, noticing the big rings under her eyes. Sam approaches Castiel while looking all around in awe. _So, this is their base of operations,_ he deduces.

"Any luck?" Garroway asks.

"We just know Nick is new, was part of Camille's clan, and was cast out," Isabelle barely answers.

"That doesn't say much," the detective complains. "It just tells us that if Nick was too extreme for Camille, he's bad news."

"Raphael said the same thing."

"Let's hope Jace and the others did better," Clary says.

While Isabelle goes away to rest, Clary and Garroway talk to Sam and Castiel, filling them in about their history, society and laws. Their teachings enlighten the younger Winchester's mind about everything that went on at the Jade Wolf and Raphael's apartment. Twenty minutes of conversation pass unnoticed until the third group walks through the front doors.

"Finally," Garroway sighs. "Where were you guys?"

"Dean, here, didn't want to use portals," Jace complains. "He made us drive all the way."

"Wow," Dean indiscreetly stares at the place. "This is your Batcave? Cool."

"All right," the detective catches his breath back. "You guys find anything?"

"The place's been cleaned and cleansed," Alec replies. "We couldn't find anything, except for the hellish portal's ashy remains."

"At least we know that there's a big and fast demon on the loose," Dean asserts. "It was powerful enough to send three of them _Shadowhunters_ flying. Any ideas, Sam?"

"Based on the evidence, it doesn't seem to be a lower class demon," Sam answers.

"If that's true, the beast must leave some traces of his energy wherever he goes," Alec claims. "We'll set our equipment to detect anomalies in the city, and we'll tell our contacts among Downworlders to keep an eye out for Nick. Until something pops up, let's call it a night and get some rest."

Before heading for their quarters, Jace and Clary exchange numbers with the Winchesters, while Simon heads out with Garroway. Alec says a few words before they leave.

"We'll call you as soon as something comes up. I hope you do the same."

"Don't worry," Sam reassures him. "We will. We'll do some research of our own while we're at it."

The Winchesters leave the Institute and board the Impala with Castiel. Dean screeches his way out of there.

"They seem nice folk, especially Isabelle," Dean smiles in front of his brother's weary glaze. "Where'd she go?"

"She needed to rest," Sam replies. "Anyways, something smells really fishy here."

"Meaning?"

"I mean, we came to New York to hunt a murderous monster, and we end up working alongside Nephilim and chasing demons. It's just like that time with the Prince of Hell, Ramiel."

"You think the English knew?" Dean asks angrily.

"I don't know, Dean. But I intend to find out. I'm calling Mick first thing in the morning."

"All right."

Dean accelerates the Impala, noticing Castiel's disturbing silence in the back seat.

* * *

 _Unknown alleyway, late night, New York._

The homeless person sleeping next to the trash cans, surrounded by garbage and empty syringes, is frightened at the sight of a pale man appearing before him. His involuntary moan alerts the being, who stares back at the bum. A pair of gray penetrating eyes are the last thing he ever sees.

Right after sucking the homeless man dry, Nick pulls out a cellphone and swiftly makes a call. He seems not to feel his bare feet touching the cold floor.

"It's done. He's walking among us, and he'll surely summon us for the next step. Be ready."

Nick hangs up, walks out the alley and disappears into the night, leaving only the bloody traces of his bare feet behind.


	4. Chapter 3: The Special Nephilim

**CHAPTER 3: THE SPECIAL NEPHILIM**

 _Galaxy Motel, Brooklyn, New York, 11:00 A.M._

Dean walks out of the shower, drying his still wet hair with one of the motel towels. He grabs two beers and hands one to his brother, who is speaking on his cellphone. Sam grabs it, opens it and puts his phone on speaker.

"I find all this hard to believe, Mick," Sam continues his ongoing conversation out loud. "Did you British Men of Letters seriously not know anything about these _Shadowhunters_?"

"I'm not saying we didn't know," Mick Davies answers from the other side of the phone. "I'm saying that, with my clearance, I never had access to that information. Plus I never had the pleasure of knowing those lads before, so I had never found the need to ask around about them."

"Then we won't know for sure if they're friendly?"

"Give me some time to talk to our people in England," Mick sighs. "I will also look for information about that _Glamour_ thing. Who knows how many more things have been hidden from us…"

"Sam, remember the demonic message," Dean whispers.

"Oh, right, right," Sam clears his throat. "We need help translating this word written in _Gehennic_. It's related to the case. See if your people back home can help us with it."

"I'll send it, see what they can find. In the meantime, orders are…"

"We don't take orders," Dean loudly meddles in.

"Right, sorry," Mick apologizes. "Could you follow the Shadowhunters' game and work with them, please?"

"We'll think about it," Dean answers with irony before hanging up his brother's phone.

Sam's shows weary sighs and eye rolls before having a zip of his beer. Dean ignores his brother's expression, searching the room for the missing team member.

"Where's Cass?"

"He went out early in the morning, saying he was gonna' do some _important research_ of his own," Sam opens his laptop. "Said he'd be back soon."

"Right," Dean nods. "Did the Nephilim kids call?"

"Not yet."

Sam's laptop shows several web pages and research documents on its screen that catch Dean's attention. The latter notices numerous Nephilim and archangel references, as well as historic documents concerning Crusades.

"I see you were busy."

"I was trying to find something about these _Shadowhunters_."

"And?"

"Well, no direct references so far," Sam answers. "But I was checking out old historic documents about the so-called _Incursion_. I tried to cross-reference them with…"

"Nobody cares," Dean fakes his snoring. "Just tell me what popped up."

"Records date from when the First Crusade began, back in the year 1096," Sam explains. "They repeatedly mention a particular crusader who went by the name _Jonathan_. Apparently, he was extremely devoted, always claiming that, and I quote, _"his strength was guided by God, his archangel generals, and his angel warriors."_ His fellow crusaders held him in high esteem."

"And what's so special about this _Jonathan_?" Dean takes a long zip of his beer. "What's he got to do with all this?"

"His nickname," Sam replies. "For his courage in battle and his devotion, his crusader brothers called him _The Shadow Hunter_. Ring any bells?"

"You think it was he who summoned that archangel Cass mentioned?"

"I found numerous references regarding Jonathan's prayers to God and his archangels before going to battle, arduously mentioning the name _"Raziel"_. It says here that through celestial blessing, this crusader was one of the ones who made the Christian victory of the First Crusade possible. However, I can't find anything else about him after the year 1100, as if he had gone completely off the grid."

"Doesn't sound like lazy historian negligence to me," Dean mutters. "The year matches the date range Cass told us about when mentioning the demon invasion."

"I also found some references concerning the archangel Raziel," Sam continues. "Within the teachings of the Jewish mysticism, Raziel is known as _"The Keeper of Secrets"_ and _"The Archangel of Mysteries"_. It says here that he was always sitting next to God's throne, listening to everything that was talked or discussed, and later writing about all of it. It is said that his book, the _Sefer Raziel HaMalach_ , was written using his holy grace, and contains all of Heaven's secret knowledge. Its current whereabouts remain unknown."

"Well, he sure is discreet," Dean grumbles. "His Nephilim were living in New York all this time, right under our noses. We hadn't even heard rumors about their existence 'till last night."

Dean's last beer zip is interrupted by his cellphone's ringing. The calling number is one he has recently added to his contact list. _Alec Lightwood,_ he remembers the Shadowhunter before answering.

"Agent Summers…"

"You can stop pretending with me, Dean," Alec's voice says from the other side of the phone. "As we agreed, I'm calling you because we may have a lead on Nick's next move, and it's going down tonight. I'm sending you the address."

"Right, we'll be there," Dean checks his cellphone screen.

Sam looks at his brother while he hangs up, expecting a brief summary of what he talked about with Alec. Dean puts his green leather jacket on and grabs a duffle bag from over his bed. He shows a big smile before heading towards the Impala's loaded trunk.

"Time to gear up."

* * *

 _Medieval History Museum, Manhattan, New York, 11:00 P.M._

Dean turns the Impala's engine off as he parks it near the alleyway adjacent to the New York Medieval History Museum. _What would a crazy vampire want from a place like this?_ The Winchesters ask themselves, unable to think about a minimally coherent answer. They even start questioning the fidelity of Alec Lightwood's information.

Once the Winchesters shut the Impala's doors, the Shadowhunters emerge from the shadows. Jace, Clary and Isabelle carry their respective swords filled with runes, while Alec still uses his bow as his weapon of choice. This time, however, the feathers adorning his arrows adopt a golden tone.

"I see you geared up for the occasion," he says, observing the Winchesters' clothing.

"We couldn't wait to get out of those suits and ties," Dean sighs.

 _He's right,_ Sam agrees with his brother's words while fixing the collar of his black leather jacket. Looking at the rest of his clothes, he notices his shirt, jeans and boots bear the same abyssal dark color. Dean looks at him with skepticism.

"Dude, what are you dressed as? A reaper?"

"Well, what have we got?" Sam asks, ignoring Dean's mockery.

"We got some intel from our sources among Downworlders," Jace takes his cellphone out of his jacket's side pocket. "They claimed that a crew led by a vampire with gray eyes was planning to steal an item from this particular museum tonight. Given the nature and antiquity of the artifacts in there, it seemed like a good lead to follow."

"And?"

"Check this out."

Jace shows a security footage to the Winchesters. They see Nick inside the museum, calmly walking through the lobby and reaching one of the exhibition rooms, followed by a strange companion dressed in black robes. At one point, he shows his pale face to the camera, along with a defiant grin.

"He's not exactly hiding," Clary asserts.

"It's like if he knew we're watching him, and dares us to go get him," Isabelle gets angry. "I say we go in there and end him once and for all..."

The Winchesters pay special attention to Isabelle, who now wears a black, tight and sleeveless overall dress that shows a moderate portion of her cleavage. While Dean looks at her with his characteristically elegant lust, Sam focuses on her evident weariness. Her pale skin and the dark rings under her eyes are more prominent than before. Her breathing is a lot heavier.

"Well, you heard the lady," Dean brags, firmly grabbing the machete he usually uses to kill vampires. "Let's ice this son of a bitch."

The newly formed team enters the museum through the back door. While Dean, Jace and Alec swiftly go through it, Sam notices that Clary and Isabelle fall behind, given that the latter loses her balance. He grabs the weak Shadowhunter's arm and gently helps her up.

"Are you all right?" Sam asks with genuine concern.

"Maybe you should sit this one out, Izzy," Clary says.

"I'm...fine," Isabelle barely stands up. "This is going to pass soon. There's no time to waste."

Once she recovers her balance, Sam lets go of her arm in the same gentle way he grabbed it before. Both stare at each other, seemingly forgetting the world around them. Their eyelids barely stay in their place, and their pupils dilate with every passing second. A strange and inexplicable feeling of curiosity and tenderness invades them.

Sensing Clary's staring makes Sam and Isabelle return to the real world. None of them understand what had just happened. Both clear their throats.

"Um, yeah," Sam stutters. "I think we um...should..."

"Yeah," Isabelle interrupts him.

Sam swiftly goes through the museum's back door, followed by the two Nephilim women. They enter an extremely dark room filled with nylon sealed cardboard boxes, where the rest of the team is waiting for them. The dust surrounding the place makes Dean sneeze.

"What took you so long?" Jace asks, getting silence as an answer.

"All right," Alec sighs. "There's a lot of ground to cover, so I propose we split into two teams. It will save us time."

"Do you think that's a good idea, Robin Hood?" Dean questions him. "We don't know what's in there, and all this smells really fishy."

"What do you mean?" Clary asks.

"Seriously, guys?" Dean complains. "You get a tip, from a monster, that another monster is gonna' hit a museum, and it doesn't seem weird to you? Obviously, Nick wants to be found, and since he knows we're onto him, I can only guess one thing."

"Which is?" Alec fixes his hair.

"He's luring us into a trap," Jace concludes.

"Dean's right, Alec," Sam says. "He easily ditched us when we caught him off guard, and now he's being too sloppy. He's obviously setting us up."

"Let's activate our tracking runes, then," Alec replies. "Jace will cover the west wing with you guys, while the girls and I search the east wing. We warn each other through the runes in case of emergency. Otherwise, we meet in this same spot in 30 minutes. Understood?"

"All right," Dean sighs. "We'll do it your way."

"Let's move, then."

The Shadowhunters activate various runes while the Winchesters turn their flashlights on. Dean takes point, slowly opening the door opposite to the one they used to enter the place. The lifeless body of a security guard falls on his boots. _Oh, man,_ he sighs.

Next to the team lies the body of a middle-aged, bald and obese man, belonging to the African-American ethnicity. His still worn security guard uniform has surprisingly almost no blood stains, and his utility belt is missing all of the weapons it normally carries. His precordial area and eye sockets show empty holes.

"His heart was ripped off," Clary asserts.

"And he's been completely sucked dry," Sam interrupts her.

"Either our werewolf is here, or Nick has changed his taste," Dean sarcastically claims.

"We proceed as planned," Alec says. "I can feel his presence still inside the museum."

"Dude, I hope it's only you on tonight's shift," Dean addresses the dead security guard.

Sam and Jace pick up the dead man's corpse and accommodate it in a discreet location, covering it with an old dusty sheet. They follow the team through the door afterwards, entering what seems to be the museum's main lobby. The lights are all turned off, giving birth to a pitch black darkness that is only mitigated with the Winchesters' flashlights. Both human hunters can barely distinguish a reception desk, two porcelain vase on marble stands and a huge painting hanging on one of the walls, seemingly representing the Battle of Arsuf during the Third Crusade.

"Well, you know what to do," Alec whispers.

The team splits into the two previously planned groups, with Jace tagging along with Sam and Dean. All three enter the room corresponding to the Medieval Weapons Exhibit, where an unpleasantly familiar smell invades the Winchesters' nasal cavities. Dean swiftly switches weapons.

"Sam, you smell that?"

"Sulfur," Sam grabs his angel blade. "There are demons nearby."

"Yeah, I can sense them too," Jace asserts. "Get ready."

Upon entering the Shields section, the three hunters spot a group of five strong men with their heads shaved, dressed in army fatigues dyed in digital camouflage. Three of them face the Winchesters, while the other two disappear into the darkness, carrying one of the shields with them.

"Winchesters," one of the men calmly says.

All three soldiers show a familiar pitch black color in their eyes. _So, demons too,_ Dean thinks while readying himself for combat. Sam and Jace firmly brandish their weapons. _Let's do this._

"One for each," Dean smiles. "This'll be quick."

"Not quite," A voice replies.

Another group of four possessed army men enters the scene. _They have to make it hard, don't they?_ Dean silently complains. The demons slowly walk towards their preys, carrying all kinds of melee weapons from batons to military combat knives.

"You have any experience with this kind of demon?" Jace asks.

"Believe me, buddy," Dean stretches his shoulders. "It will be our pleasure to kick their asses."

Before the demons can attack, Sam, Dean and Jace charge against them, starting a noisy and destructive fight that catches the other group's attention. Clary turns towards their direction, minding the sound of battle cries, broken furniture and weapon clashes. _Nah, Jace will be fine,_ she stops herself from intervening.

Seconds after returning from her distraction, Clary sees Nick standing right in front of her. The vampire hits her chest so hard that the blow sends her flying. Her fall is stopped by a giant ceramic vase. Alec tries helping her by shooting an arrow at Nick, but he misses his shot as he is pushed by a second attacker and thrown out of the room. The shady character then shuts the double doors and bars them with a thick iron poker. Isabelle, still inside the room, brandishes her sword, barely being able to hold it.

"It seems we have a sick one here," Nick smiles. "Don't overdo it, dear. You could...worsen your condition..."

The shady figure inside the room takes off the hood, showing the face of a young and beautiful woman. Her hair is as red as blood, and it shines strongly despite the reigning darkness. Thanks to their runes, Isabelle and Clary can distinguish the paleness of her skin and the black color covering her prominent lips. They can also see her long nails and her sharp, pointy teeth. _Werewolf_ , both think. Clary stands up and swiftly joins her teammate.

"The famous Clarissa Fairchild," Nick rejoices himself. "We meet at last..."

Clary aims the tip of her sword at Nick and turns her attention towards the werewolf for a few seconds, who is standing in front of a continuously pounded door. _That must be Alec,_ she asserts. The vampire's gray eyes look at both Nephilim's drawn weapons.

"Boohoo, how scary," he mocks them. "Do you think a sword with... little drawings... can do me any harm?"

"It's a Seraph Blade, idiot," the werewolf woman insults him. "It can kill any of us. Don't let your guard down."

"All right then," Nick taunts the Shadowhunters. "Let's see what you've got."

Blinded by rage, Clary charges towards Nick and tries cutting and stabbing him with swift and relentless swings. However, Nick's celerity stops her from even laying a scratch and allows him to punch her twice in the face. Using her staggering, he grabs her by her jacket and throws her against the wall like a ragdoll. Isabelle tries helping her, but the werewolf swiftly attacks her. She can barely dodge the claw swings. Both can hear Alec's relentless battering attempts.

"Do you know what really bugs me?" Nick slowly walks towards the still recovering Clary. "I spend an enormous amount of money, buying a gift for my dear sire, my dear lady...AND IT TURNS OUT SHE'S DEAD!"

Nick strongly kicks Clary's ribs, making her fall again and drop her Seraph Blade. Isabelle loses her temper and clumsily struggles with her werewolf adversary. A strong push puts her on the floor as well.

"I did my homework," Nick continues his speech. "I performed a thorough investigation. I wanted to know how the only person who had been nice to me, the only woman I had ever loved in my miserable life, had died. It turns out that you, Clarissa Fairchild, had involved her in your stupid family feud, and sent her to her death...WHEN THAT DAMNED SOUL SWORD WAS ACTIVATED!"

Clary remembers all the Downworlders who died when her father activated the Soul Sword. She stares at the floor in shame and regret. The memory of all those vampires, seelies and werewolves, burnt under the sword's shining light, draws her tears out.

"CLARY, IT WASN'T YOUR FAULT!" Isabelle yells, struggling to stand up. "DON'T LISTEN TO HIM!"

"Nick, remember our mission!" The female werewolf firmly puts her foot on Isabelle's neck. "Our objective is to take the special Nephilim with us. Don't screw this up..."

"SHUT UP, BEATRICE!" Nick yells in anger. "I must do this. I must do the right thing..."

Clary defenselessly lies on the floor, with her face all wet in tears. She looks at Nick in the eye. She doesn't perform any defensive or evasive moves. She doesn't try to resist him at all. Isabelle tries desperately ridding herself of Beatrice's heavy foot dressed in a combat boot. She sees Nick raising his fist. _No, no, no..._

The double doors suddenly open, followed by a gunshot and a bullet that hits Nick's shoulder. Jace and Alec swiftly enter the room and charge against Beatrice, successfully tossing her across the room. They help Isabelle up while Sam and Dean face the vampire.

"Pick on someone your own size," Dean taunts him.

Nick sees the possessed army men's corpses through the open door. He raises his brows for a few seconds, then looks at the Winchesters and smiles. He pulls the bullet out of his shoulder without showing any signs of pain.

"I see those stupid demons failed. No matter. I can take all of you."

The Winchesters swiftly charge against Nick. They repeatedly try chopping his head off, but the vampire's celerity makes them hit nothing but air and darkness. The machetes whoosh with every swing they perform. _Damn, he's fast,_ Dean thinks.

Nick appears before Sam and strongly punches his left ribs, chest and face, throwing him against a miniaturized imitation of a battering ram with the last blow. He then easily avoids being cut by Dean, places himself instantly behind him and strongly kicks him in the back. The Winchesters stand back up and charge against the vampire a second time, bearing the same results.

"You really don't know what you walked into here, _agents_ ," Nick brags.

Jace suddenly appears behind the vampire and grabs his arms. Nick tries getting loose, but the Nephilim's current physical strength is too much for him. Dean grabs his machete.

"You're finished," Jace's eyes turn gold.

When Dean is close enough, Nick strongly kicks him in the chest, making the hunter stagger and fall. He then violently struggles with his holder, managing to head-butt him and force the Nephilim to let go. Far from staggering, Jace maintains his balance and strongly punches the vampire's face.

"Dammit," Nick complains.

The vampire tries hitting Jace using his enhanced speed. The Nephilim evades each blow, grabs Nick by his coat and throws him against the wall.

"Time to end this," Jace draws his Seraph Blade.

The runes on Jace's weapon shine as they near Nick's pale throat. Its tip touches his pale exposed trachea. He knows there is no escape. The vampire shuts his eyes, seemingly ready for the end of his dark existence. _It can't be_ , he complains. _Not like this..._

A bullet burst is suddenly heard.

"What the..."

Jace's jacket shows numerous bleeding bullet holes on his back. Seeing their companion in trouble, Alec and the Winchesters ready their ranged weapons. They see Beatrice carrying an UZI submachine gun.

"We made a mistake," she mutters as she helps Nick up. "We have to retreat."

"You're not going anywhere," Dean says.

Before the Winchesters can fire a shot, Beatrice shoots in all directions and forces everyone to take cover. Once gunfire ceases, all standing hunters aim their weapons in the direction of the monster pair. Only Jace remains at the scene, still on the ground, with multiple gunshot wounds on his back. He's barely able to stand back up.

"Let's help you, buddy," Alec passes his stele over all of his wounds.

"Damn mundanes and their guns," Jace complains.

Sam and Dean go after Nick and Beatrice while Isabelle stands up and goes to Clary's aid, handing her the Seraph Blade she had dropped. Alec helps Jace back on his feet.

"I had never seen any Downworlder move as fast as they do," Isabelle claims. "I could barely follow them with my sight."

After a few minutes, the Winchesters return empty-handed. The Shadowhunters sigh in disdain.

"Those two are gone," Dean sighs.

The group hears the sirens from NYPD vehicles outside. All stare at each other. Everyone nods at the same time while Clary dries her remaining tears.

"See you guys at the Institute," Alec orders.

The Shadowhunters go through the cops using their Glamour. The Winchesters, on the other hand, escape through the back door they had used to enter the museum. Both brothers reach the Impala without any kind of trouble.

* * *

 _Shadowhunter Institute, Manhattan, New York, 11:30 P.M._

Sam and Dean enter the Institute's main lobby, where Alec, Jace and Clary are already expecting them. The three Shadowhunters are standing behind four other Nephilim operating the holographic interfaces. The Winchesters join them immediately.

"What are we looking at?" Dean asks.

"I stuck a small tracker to Nick's coat when I grabbed him," Jace explains himself. "Seeing how things were going down, I thought it might be a good idea in case he escaped. Guess I was right."

"Genius," Dean genuinely praises him. "Tell me we know where he is."

"The guy's still on the move," Alec says. "We go in as soon as he stops. We just need a location."

Sam closely observes one of the holographic interfaces, in which a tridimensional representation of the city map is shown. A small, blinking purple dot moves around it in a fast manner, maintaining a realistically possible path. The younger Winchester is surprised upon seeing that the tracking software doesn't lose the vampire for a second, even with the speed he had observed earlier in the museum. He feels relaxed when he notices the blinking dot doesn't stop moving. _He hasn't detected the tracker yet,_ he deduces.

Nick's representative dot slowly decreases its speed and stops at one specific point in the map.

"Show me where _that_ is," Alec orders the Nephilim manning the interface.

"That location corresponds to an old Biker bar in Brooklyn," the operator answers. "According to city records, the place was shut down months ago after an NYPD raid. It hasn't been officially remodeled, sold, or used for any purpose."

"Any security cams nearby?"

"Accessing them now."

The footages do not show Nick or Beatrice near the place. However, Clary notices two black stains that swiftly appear and disappear. She meddles in Alec's conversation with the interface operator.

"Freeze that."

The operator follows the redhead's orders. The frozen footage still shows an empty street.

"Rewind that, frame by frame," she orders him again.

Upon reaching the sixth rewound frame, everyone notices the blurry image of two runners in the middle of the street. Both Winchesters and Shadowhunters rapidly recognize them.

"There they are," Clary asserts.

"Is the signal still in the same place?" Alec asks.

"Yes, it's still there," the interface operator answers. "It shows a mild level of movement, which means he mustn't have detected the tracker yet."

"We must move," Alec says. "Clary, call Simon and Luke. I'll call Magnus. We need all the help we can get."

"Is calling all of them necessary, Alec?"

"Back at the museum we could barely contain those two, and they escaped from all six of us in a second. I'm not taking any chances this time."

"Clary should stay here," Isabelle joins the conversation, still showing evident signs of weariness. "Those two monsters have a hidden agenda that surely involves her."

"What do you mean?" Alec asks.

"While we were locked up in that exhibit, Nick continuously blamed Clary for the death of his sire, who was seemingly a victim of the Soul Sword when Valentine used it. However, Beatrice stopped him when he was going to kill her, reminding him that their mission was _to take the special Nephilim with them_."

" _Special Nephilim_?" Jace worries.

"I'm sure she meant Clary," Isabelle asserts. "I mean, she has skills none of us have. And due to her connection with Ithuriel, she can cast runes none of us has ever seen before. Whatever they're planning to do, I'm sure it involves her."

"Izzy, I'm not gonna' miss this one because of some unconfirmed _plan_ ," Clary complains. "I can protect myself, and we have the element of surprise this time. It's the best time to strike, all of us."

"Clary, I didn't like what I saw, and much less what I heard..."

"Izzy, I'm more worried about you," Clary hugs her. "You fight, no matter how bad you feel. I can't do less, and I simply can't stay behind because some monsters threaten me. I'm going with you guys. Period."

"And we will protect you both, whatever it takes," Jace interrupts her. "We always have, and we always will."

"Don't forget us, folks," Dean reaffirms Jace's speech. "We might have never met before, but we have a lot of mileage. Everything will be all right."

"You can count on us," Sam says. "We're somehow in this together."

All team members, humans and Nephilim, look at each other with trust and acceptance. Sam approaches Alec and the girls, and all stare at Dean and Jace's handshake with joy.

"Let's consider the fight at the penthouse a tie," Jace smiles.

"All right," Dean smiles back with sarcasm. "You hit like a bitch, though."

"So do you."

After a short but intense laugh, Dean walks towards the Institute's exit doors.

"Well, we leaving or what?"

* * *

 _Abandoned Biker bar, Brooklyn, New York, 12:30 A.M._

A huge portal opens in the alleyway near the abandoned biker bar in Brooklyn. All members of the newly formed hunter team confidently emerge from it. They take positions all around the building. Dean shows a long face.

"Is something wrong?" Clary asks him.

"Nothing, it's just that I hate teleportation," he grumbles. "Besides, I left my baby all alone, parked near the _Institute_."

"Your _baby_?"

"Don't mid him," Sam soothes her. "Let's focus on this."

"The tracker shows Nick is still inside the bar," Alec asserts. "The movement pattern slightly varies, which is a sign he hasn't found it yet."

"Unless he hung it on some poor animal," Dean smiles.

While scouting the place, the team detects a known SUV arriving, from which Simon and Garroway come out once it's parked. A second and smaller portal opens behind the vehicle with another man emerging from it. The Winchesters don't recall having met him.

"Right on time," Alec sighs.

Clary discreetly and romantically kisses Simon, causing Jace's evident discomfort. The recently arrived man goes towards Alec, kisses him and hugs him. Sam and Dean watch the scene with astonishment. _Is he…? Are they...?_

"Sam, Dean, meet Magnus Bane," Alec makes the introductions. "He's a good friend of mine, and one of New York's most powerful warlocks."

"Warlock?" Dean asks. "As in _hexing and spelling_ warlock?"

"I'm not like _Rowena_ , Dean," Magnus calmly answers. "I'm one of the good guys, the kind that help people."

"How do you..."

"Please, _Dean Winchester_ ," Magnus elegantly interrupts him. "I'm Magnus Bane. I know many things..."

Despite the reigning darkness, the Winchesters take a detailed look at the warlock. They admit he's a rather handsome man, apparently in his twenties, well shaved and with a fashionable haircut. His constitution is elegantly slender, and his small eyes are barely visible during the night. He wears a seemingly expensive gray suit.

"Armani?" Dean whispers to his brother.

"Seems even more expensive to me."

"Sorcery pays, it seems..."

"Well, since we're all here," Alec interrupts the Winchesters' inappropriate conversation. "Magnus, I need you to take a look inside that building."

Without saying a word, Magnus weaves his hands in a strange way, making a small shiny green energy orb emerge from within them. He swiftly sends it towards the insides of the abandoned bar. His eyes adopt the same color.

"I see two individuals arguing, a male vampire and a female werewolf," he says. "The vampire seems uneasy and anxious, going back and forth all the time. The woman, however, seems awfully calm."

"Can you hear what they say?" Dean asks.

"This orb only allows me to see and sense the auras of living beings. As a matter of fact, theirs are not exactly normal."

"What do you mean?" Isabelle meddles in.

"They're too strong. It's like if they magically overcame the strength they could ever manage to obtain during their existences. I don't understand it. It's practically impossible."

"English, please?" Dean complains.

"They're excessively stronger and more powerful than they should be."

"That explains the events in the museum," Isabelle claims. "I saw them too strong and too fast for a pair of simple Downworlders."

"Any other presence?" Alec asks.

"From what I can see, it's just the two of them."

The shining green orb comes out of the bar and into Magnus' hand. His eyes regain their normal color. The warlock stares directly at Alec's eyes, then addresses the rest of the team.

"Despite what I said, we should have no trouble at all if we all go in together."

"I let the department know a _training exercise_ would be performed in this area," Garroway says. "That should avoid any kind of police response."

"Well, you all heard the men!" Alec vociferates. "All of you take point! We're gonna' end this now!"

All Shadowhunters draw their Seraph Blades, the Winchesters introduce clips filled with silver bullets into their guns and Garroway grabs his service Glock-19.

"You can handle this, right?" Dean hands Simon his machete. "Remember to aim for the neck."

"Yeah," Simon smiles. "Good to see you too."

All hunters take point on both main and back entrances, weapons at hand and ready to storm the place. Everyone stares at each other. Everyone confirms their readiness. Alec is ready to give the signal. Breaching is imminent.

Just as they are ready to go in, Isabelle grabs her left shoulder and twists herself in pain before collapsing. Her willpower and commitment force her to hold her screaming so that Nick and Beatrice don't become aware of their presence. Formation breaks when everyone tries to help her. Alec freezes as he sees his sister in that state.

"What just happened?" Garroway shows genuine concern.

"Izzy," Alec holds his tears.

Sam takes the initiative and carries her in his arms towards a nearby pile of smashed cardboards. Then he stands up and grabs Alec's shoulders, slightly shaking him in order to bring him back to reality. The Nephilim keeps his sight on his sister. Her trembling gains intensity by the minute.

"Alec, I know what's going on with your sister," Sam stares at him. "I know how to deal with this. You guys get in there and end this, once and for all."

"She's..."

"I know," Sam firmly asserts. "I'll take care of her until it passes. You heard Magnus. We need everyone's strength, especially from you Nephilim. Get in there, get the job done. We'll be joining you sooner than you know. Trust me."

Alec shakes his head, composes himself and grabs Sam's shoulder, accepting the human hunter's terms. The younger Winchester sits on the cardboards near Isabelle, watching the team as it retakes its previous positions. All of them take position again before breaching. _Here we go_.

Sam stays near Isabelle. They both hear screaming, groaning, gunshots and broken objects coming from inside the bar. He notices the gradually decreasing intensity of her trembling. After a few minutes, she manages to sit and lean her back against the nearby wall.

"Thanks," She sighs.

"Don't mention it," Sam smiles. "I know what you're going through."

"Believe me, you don't really know."

"Oh, yes I do," Sam contradicts her. "What's your poison?"

"Vampire venom."

"Right..."

Isabelle is surprised at Sam's lack of commotion. _What kind of hunter is he? How many things has he seen, or has he been through?_ Her questions fade slowly upon seeing the moon shine on the floor they're sitting on. Her trembling disappears completely, and her shoulder pain is no longer intolerable. She starts thinking clearly. Questions start roaming her mind.

"What was _your_ poison?"

"Demon blood," Sam smiles. "However, I no longer crave it."

"Demon blood?" Isabelle raises her brows in shock. "Wow. How did you get through the abstinence?"

"Honestly, I don't know," Sam sighs. "My addiction was one of the things that caused Lucifer's release and, seeing all the havoc he caused during his stroll on our planet, my body simply decided to stop drinking it. Sure, there were really hard times, and I had relapses for reasons beyond my control. But whenever I wanted to have some, even when having access to it, I remembered all the disasters it had caused. Somehow that stopped me."

"Lucifer? As in, the Devil?"

"Yes," Sam sighs. "That Lucifer."

"From what you say, those weren't simple disasters," Isabelle laughs.

"You're right, they weren't. But I think that those who helped me the most were the people close to me. If not for them, I don't know what I would have become."

"This is all so, so hard..."

"You also have people who love you and care for you. Your brother, Clary, Jace...and I think Dean and I boarded that boat too. It's hard, but you can do this."

"You really believe that?" Isabelle stares at Sam.

"This few days I met you, I have seen a strong, smart and determined woman. You've got all things necessary to overcome this."

Without noticing, Sam and Isabelle's faces had drawn closer during their conversation. Both stare at each other's eyes. Only a few millimeters separate their nose tips. Their eyelids slowly descend. Their lips are about to touch.

Sam's cellphone suddenly rings, making them both separate. The reigning uncomfortable feeling can be sensed a mile away. The phone screen shows Mick Davies as the calling contact.

"Yes Mick?" Sam sighs.

"I'm calling you to give you an important update," Mick says after Sam put his phone on speaker. "The word you wanted to translate is not a term. It's a name. _Chamsael_."

"What?"

"It's a demon, Sam," Mick answers, getting Isabelle's attention. "According to our findings, Chamsael was created by Lucifer right after he created the Princes of Hell, and he kept it secret even during the demonic Incursion. The lore says he was in charge of keeping all others of his kind at bay, meant to quell any type of rebellion. More ancient texts say that his creator imbued its demonic essence with some of his own archangel grace, giving him immeasurable power."

"Another Prince of Hell?"

"More like the Archduke of Hell..."

"Damn it."

"We're talking about a level of po...sim...dev..."

"Mick... MICK!"

Sam notices how his cellphone and the nearby street lamps start going haywire. An unbearable smell of sulfur invades the air, and the nearby car alarms start going off one after the other. Isabelle smells an immeasurable stench of death.

"Let's go inside, now," Sam grabs Isabelle's arm. "We must warn them."

"Right."

Sam and Isabelle run towards the bar and storm through the main gate. The first thing they see is their team surrounding Nick and Beatrice, both sitting on the floor in cuffs. None of their teammates seem hurt or tired. Everything seems to have gone smoothly.

"Dean, we should leave this place, _now_ ," Sam breathes heavily.

"Wow, slow down there, buddy..."

"No, no, you don't understand," Sam interrupts him. "Nick summoned an extremely powerful demon, even more powerful than a Prince of Hell, and it's coming this way. We've got nothing to face it with."

"What demon?!" Alec grabs Nick by his trench coat. "What's he talking about?!"

Nick looks at everyone and laughs loudly. His gray eyes shine under the place's poor lighting. His fangs start drooling.

"What your giant friend is trying to say is that you're all screwed. He's here, and he's gonna' kick your pretty asses..."

The whole hunter and Downworlder team see how all the doors suddenly close. The light bulbs explode one by one, and the five bar stools fly all around the place. Blue sparks burst out of every electric socket until everything goes dark. After a few seconds, all unbroken electrical equipment starts working again. The place's old jukebox turns on by itself and randomly plays the Rolling Stones' 1966 single, Paint it Black.

"Hi..."

The deep and strong greeting voice belongs to a tall man standing at the center of the abandoned bar, measuring approximately 6 feet tall. His hair is extremely blond and shiny, perfectly cut in a military style. Despite being immaculately shaved, his face places him in his fifties. He wears a set of army fatigues dyed in digital camouflage, which fails to cover his extremely developed muscles. Sam and Dean pay special attention to his eyes, noticing that his irises show a yellow color, contrasted by the strong purple tint of his ocular globes. _There he is,_ Sam thinks. _That must be Chamsael._

The demon sends Garroway and Simon flying with a small hand gesture. Jace and Alec charge against him with their Seraph Blades and, after hitting nothing but air, they sense both his hands grabbing their heads from behind. Chamsael violently slams them against the ground.

"All right, who's next?"

Sam and Dean start shooting him while Clary and Isabelle charge against him. Chamsael sends the girls flying with a hand gesture, then teleports near the Winchesters, subduing them both with a single punch.

"Humans and their stupid toys," he sighs.

Chamsael walks towards the captive Nick and Beatrice. Before he can reach them, Magnus gets in the way, waves his hands and pronounces some strange words. The demon doesn't stop him.

"Don't disappoint me, child."

After finishing his casting sequence, Magnus shoots a strong lightning bolt from his hand, followed by a searing flame that fully hits Chamsael. The warlock sees with fear that his spell had no effect on the fearsome demon, not even managing to burn an inch of his army fatigues.

"My turn..."

After a finger flip, a potent lightning bolt comes out of Chamsael's hand and violently impacts Magnus. The warlock's clothes burn. His whole body convulses. Alec watches in horror as his friend collapses.

"MAGNUUUUUS!"

"And that's how it's done," Chamsael smiles.

Without anyone else to oppose him, Chamsael opens Nick and Beatrice's cuffs with his mind. Both stand up and try to finish off the hunter team. The demon paralyzes them.

"Forget these maggots," he firmly orders. "Let's take the Nephilim and leave this dump."

Still unable to stand, Clary and Isabelle grab their Seraph Blades as Chamsael approaches them. The demon takes the weapons away from their hands with his telekinesis and, using the same method, he pulls Clary towards him.

"What...what do you want with me?!"

"You?" Chamsael smiles and throws her away like a ragdoll. "Who said I wanted you?"

The demon attracts Isabelle towards him. The Nephilim stares at his yellow and purple eyes and smiles defiantly. Nick and Beatrice stare back at her.

"You're wrong," Isabelle struggles. "I'm not special. I'm an ordinary Shadowhunter."

"You lost your virginity at an early age, shared the bed with Downworlders and you've got some of their poison running through your veins. You seem really special to me."

The hunters try making a move, but the strength of Chamsael's powers prevents them from even standing up. Alec watches helplessly as his sister is being taken away. _Isabelle, no..._

"Enjoy what's left of your life, maggots!" Chamsael vociferates before teleporting with Beatrice, Nick and Isabelle.


	5. Chapter 4: A Weapon of Mass Extinction

**CHAPTER 4 – A WEAPON OF MASS EXTINCTION**

Castiel enters the abandoned Biker bar, failing to stumble into Chamsael and his crew for barely a few seconds. He sees Shadowhunters and Downworlders slowly crawling towards the bar, while the Winchesters barely lean on the dirty walls. The inert body of Magnus Bane lies near the silent jukebox, filled with burns and with his expensive suit torn to shreds. The fallen seraph walks towards his long-time human friends.

"What happened here?"

"What does it look like to you?" Dean complains. "We just got our asses kicked by some _demon_ , and he took the hot Nephilim brunette. You came late to the party."

"Where were you, Cass?" Sam asks.

"I was with some battle brothers in Heaven, trying to figure out what all this we've seen is about. We must move fast."

"Well, I wish you good luck with _that_ ," Dean shows him the rest of the wounded. "If those _wings_ of yours don't grow back..."

Castiel ignores Dean and walks near a convalescent Clary. The redhead, still sitting on the floor, leans against the bar and smiles when she sees the angel. Castiel kneels near her.

"Castiel..."

"We don't have time to waste," Castiel says. "Tell me, which one of you has more proficiency with the opening of portals?"

"Him," Clary breathes heavily, pointing the fallen warlock with her finger. "Magnus can get us out of here..."

"All right."

Castiel stands up and walks towards the fallen Magnus Bane. He stands near him and touches the warlock's head with his bare hand. A light comes out from its palm and engulfs them both.

"Magnus," Alec lets some tears come out.

The light dissipates, showing Magnus' body in perfect state, with burn marks no longer present. The warlock opens his eyes and quickly stands up, removing the dust all over him. He touches all his exposed skin areas and acknowledges the absence of any wound.

"Thank you," he calmly says. "I don't believe we've met..."

"There is no time for that," Castiel abruptly interrupts him. "I need you to open a portal towards the Institute."

Magnus looks at Clary, already on her feet and leaning against the bar. The redhead Nephilim nods. He does the same.

"Right," Magnus starts weaving his hands. "The Institute it is, then."

"All those who can walk help the others!" Castiel shouts. "We're leaving this place now!"

An enormous portal emanates from Magnus' hands, with its center showing brief glimpses of the Institute's lobby. Dean carries Alec on his shoulders while Castiel and Sam do the same with Jace and Simon, respectively. Clary helps Garroway up.

"Go ahead, gentlemen."

The whole team walks through the abyssal dark circle, feeling how it swiftly closes behind their backs.

* * *

 _NYPD Central Morgue, New York, 3:00 A.M._

The autopsy technician working the night shift faints upon seeing four beings appear out of thin air. The image of those strange yellow and purple eyes staring at him will stay forever in his memories. He asks himself many questions before going into a trance. _Who are they? What are they? Is this real? Is it some stupid nightmare? Am I going mad?_

"Oh, it's all real," Chamsael loudly answers his thought questions.

The four creatures are as real as the fact that one of them is there against her will. The stainless steel cuffs filled with carved runes holding Isabelle's wrists together behind her back confirm it. Her struggling ratifies it. Her facial expression reasserts it.

"I'm telling you," Isabelle taunts her captors. "You've got the wrong Nephilim. I'm not special at all. What could I possibly offer you?"

"Nick," Chamsael looks at Isabelle in a threatening way. "Take care of that noisy lady, would you?"

"As you wish..."

Nick slowly walks towards Isabelle, receiving clumsy kicks and head-butts from her as an approaching gift. The vampire grabs the handcuffed Nephilim's neck and pushes her fine and voluptuous body against the wall. He shows her his enormous drooling fangs. Her pupils dilate. _No..._

"Don't be afraid, girl," Nick whispers. "I know you want it as much as I do."

The gray-eyed vampire bites the abstinent Nephilim's neck, slowly exchanging his poison with her celestially graced blood. Isabelle's anger soothes itself little by little. Both feel immeasurable pleasure and relief, getting lost in the process. Chamsael looks at them with tenderness.

"How cute."

"Right," Beatrice stares at the scene with disgust. "What's our next step?"

"Our next step is creating a distraction," Chamsael answers. "I will need _your_ help with that."

" _My_ help...?"

The fearsome demon interrupts Beatrice's questions by using his telekinesis, opening one of the corpse drawers. The exposed dead girl looks familiar to her. Her blond hair, small eyes and heartless hole are unmistakable.

"I'm gonna' need some of your blood, child," Chamsael calmly says.

Beatrice strongly bites her left wrist and lets her blood fall on the dead girl's forehead. After an acceptable amount, Chamsael swiftly cures the werewolf's self-inflicted wound and performs a strange ritual on the lifeless body. He pronounces barely understandable words for five minutes. Only the final term can be understood by his subordinates.

"RISE!"

The corpse's eyes swiftly open, showing a pair of extremely pale ocular globes devoid of irises or pupils. She rapidly sits on the cold aluminum stretcher and then slowly lands her bare feet on the morgue's floor. She immediately charges against Beatrice. Chamsael stops her using his telekinesis.

"Easy, girl," he smiles. "It's not her you must harm."

The lifeless girl tries fighting the demon's invisible restrictions, seemingly causing him no harm or struggle. He keeps his arm straight and his fingers pointed at her. A black smoke starts emanating from his vessel's fingernails and enters the girl's nasal cavities. She immediately stops moving.

"Good," the demon delightfully whispers. "Feel my essence. Embrace my darkness."

The lifeless girl shuts her eyelids for a few seconds, then opens them. Her ocular globes turn pitch black. She turns towards Chamsael and kneels, followed by Nick and Beatrice. Isabelle struggles with the dizziness induced by the vampire venom.

"Go, my dear Cassidy!" Chamsael shouts. "GIVE THEM SOME HELL!"

The re-animated Cassidy Blossom emits a screeching roar before being warped out.

* * *

 _Shadowhunter Institute, Manhattan, New York, 3:30 A.M._

Sam emits his signature eye rolls and weary sighs at Dean while he watches him play with the strategy room's holographic interface. He repeatedly turns it on and off, and occasionally touches the tip of the Empire State building, distorting the digitally rendered image of New York City. Castiel ignores him and remains seated in one of the black chairs surrounding the large table at the center.

A recovered Shadowhunter group enters the room, followed by Simon, Magnus Bane and a bare-chested and bandaged Garroway. Dean swiftly walks away from the holographic interface. Sam raises his brows and looks away.

"How do you feel?" Castiel stands up.

"We'll live," Jace grabs his left ribcage. "We took hell of a beating back there."

"You guys seem fine, though," Alec turns the holographic interface off, showing some annoyance. "You sure you're human?"

"Oh, believe me, we've had worse," Dean brags. "That demon hits like Jace."

Jace and Sam raise their brows, roll their eyes and emit a weary sigh at the same time. They see Garroway sitting on one of the chairs with difficulty. Clary and Simon walk towards him.

"Luke, are you all right?"

"Like Dean here said," Garroway smiles at an annoyed Jace. "That was nothing. I'll live."

Clary and Simon smile back at the detective. Their body languages shows the Winchesters the unbreakable and lasting bond between the three. The following hug shows them as one strongly united family, despite the diversity of races. _Wow, they sure are close,_ Sam thinks.

"We haven't got much time," Castiel breaks the moment. "Things have gotten really out of hand."

"What do you mean?" Sam stands up.

"Chamsael's plan," Castiel answers. "We need to stop it."

"What do you know about it, Castiel?" Alec asks. "What does he want with my sister? Why did he take her?"

"Tell me something," Castiel slowly walks towards the worried Shadowhunter leader. "Does your sister have any demonic ancestors?"

"No..."

"Has she made any demonic deals?"

"No!"

"Sexual intercourse with demons or any other dark creature?"

"Hell no!" Alec loses his temper. "Damn!"

"She dated a Seelie once," Clary meddles in. "Does _that_ count?"

"Seelies are civilized fairies," Magnus intervenes. "They might be considered Downworlders, but their essences contain mostly light. Pure darkness is not an attribute they can boast about, so that would be a _no_."

"Alec, her addiction," Sam whispers.

"Yin Fen," Alec remembers. "My sister is addicted to vampire blood!"

"That explains why Chamsael is interested in her," Castiel asserts. "The corruption of her grace... It all makes sense."

"Cass," Dean loses his patience. "What the hell are you talking about!?"

Castiel ignores Dean's exasperation and starts walking in circles, muttering senseless and incomprehensible words to anyone around him. Winchesters, Shadowhunters and Downworlders round the fallen angel. Everyone expects an answer.

"He's got almost everything..."

"Everything?" Sam asks. "Everything for what?"

" _The blood of a demon imbued in angelic grace_ , _the_ _heart of a human virgin in the age of procreation_ and _the grace of a corrupted Nephilim_. He's only lacking _an object belonging to an extremely evil creature..._ "

"Or not," Jace interrupts him, showing a webpage on his cellphone. "I think he got that too."

The Nephilim hands his cellphone over to Dean, who watches the screen closely. Sam and Castiel join him, observing the picture of a big shield with episcopal insignias carved on it. The object's description defines its origin. The webpage shows its whereabouts.

" _The shield of Gilles Velmare,_ " Sam reads out loud. " _Inquisitor and Witch Hunter._ "

"That's the object those G.I. demons were carrying out of the museum," Jace asserts. "I saw the insignias right before they walked out of the exhibit."

"According to this, Gilles Velmare was a member of the Holy Inquisition," Sam summarizes. "The High Bishops exclusively assigned him the task of hunting young women who, and I quote, _"favored and pursued the ways of Satan"_. Apparently, he took much delight in the interrogation and torture sessions, even denying highly provable innocence in order to feed his desires. He seems to be responsible for the deaths of about 400 women."

"Quite the model citizen, huh?" Dean smiles.

"So, he's got all the objects," Castiel sighs.

"What are we dealing with, Castiel?" Jace asks. "What could possibly worry an angel so much?"

All the present creatures set their eyes on the fallen angel. His words feed their instincts, telling them something big and bad is going on. Their hearts beat strongly. An overwhelming curiosity invades them.

"Chamsael is putting together a divine weapon," Castiel explains. "The ingredients he rounded up match the ones necessary to build _The Shield of Despair_."

" _Shield of Despair_?" Magnus interrogatively repeats.

"Just after Lucifer managed to corrupt the humans at the Garden of Eden, God remembered his failure with the Leviathans. He was afraid angel and man would become as destructive and voracious as his first beasts, so he thought about a countermeasure that would cause their immediate and massive destruction, _if_ the situation demanded it."

"And that shield is the countermeasure," Sam concludes.

"It is a weapon designed to destroy the essence of every angel, human, or any other creature with a soul made of light," Castiel continues. "It uses the same principle as the Soul Sword that was activated here, acting as its countermeasure."

" _As the Sword ends the Darkness..._ " Jace starts reciting.

" _The Shield shall end the Light,_ " Clary finishes his sentence. "Oh my God..."

"No matter where it is used, no matter how far we are, it could end our very existences in a matter of seconds," Castiel asserts. "We must stop him before it's too late."

An uncontrollable mass murmur swiftly takes control of the strategy room. Both Winchesters and Shadowhunters start irremediably worrying about Castiel's discovery. Speculation and swift conclusions fly around.

"That's what he meant, when he told us to enjoy what was left of our lives," Clary says. "They were planning this from the very beginning."

"But why do Nick and Beatrice help him?" Garroway asks. "Aren't they gonna' get fried too if that thing is activated?"

"Downworlders and demons have traces of darkness in their souls," Castiel asserts. "You should be immune to its effects, as well as Magnus and Simon here. The rest of us would be, well, _screwed_."

"I hadn't heard Cass swear in a long time," Sam mutters.

"He must be really on edge," Dean mutters back.

"You say it's a divine weapon," Clary remembers. "How does a demon like Chamsael...?"

"Lucifer," Castiel interrupts her. "He must have given him the formula."

"Lucifer?" Simon repeats in shock. "As in, _the Devil_?"

"Yes."

"By the way," Jace sits next to Garroway. "What happens if the shield is activated? What are its effects?"

"According to what I saw and heard in Heaven, it should feel like if your soul burns and tears itself to shreds from the inside. Whatever _that_ means, it must not be pleasant."

"Well, no one's felt anything, right?" Jace addresses everyone. "It's a good sign."

"No, it's not," Castiel denies his claim. "Chamsael needs great amounts of demonic energy to activate the shield, and he must be scouring the Earth looking for a source. His plan is merely delayed."

"Well, that should give us some time," Dean calmly says, gathering everyone's attention. "We must kill that son of a bitch before he activates that shield."

"Right," Sam supports him. "I'm gonna' check the lore, see if..."

"No need," Dean interrupts him. "We use _The Colt_."

"You think?"

"That gun offs anything," Dean confidently brags.

"Dean, we're not sure of that," Castiel says. "Remember what happened with Lucifer. Chamsael has a higher rank in Hell, higher even than a Prince or a Knight. I don't know if..."

"Well, we haven't got any other fast way. And as far as I'm concerned, Chamsael's just a pumped up Prince of Hell. He even has Azazel's eyes. It should work."

"I'll call Mick then," Sam grabs his cellphone.

While Sam walks towards the Institute's double doors, the Shadowhunters gather around Castiel, eager to know about the mentioned Colt. The angel and Dean stare at them. Alec decides to ask away.

"What's _The Colt_?"

"In 1835, a gun maker named Samuel Colt made a special gun," Dean starts telling the story. "It is said that gun can kill anything, no matter its race or nature. As far as we've seen, it has offed everything it has hit, except for Lucifer."

"You mean you went toe to toe with the Devil?" Alec asks with discreet astonishment.

"Yeah, don't get too excited," Dean mutters. "We...ehem... We lost that time. Thought the gun would kill him."

"Oh..."

"And you think that gun can kill Chamsael?" Garroway asks. "I see Castiel pretty worried here."

"Lucifer said that there are five things in all of creation it can't kill," Dean asserts. "However, I killed a Prince of Hell with it before, and Chamsael's one of them."

"I see."

"My brother's sending word," Dean tries to soothe everyone. "It should be in our hands soon."

"Let's not waste time, then," Alec turns the holographic interface on. "While that gun gets here, we can use all of the Institute's resources to locate Chamsael and his team."

New York's holographic image takes the shape of the same two-dimensional map seen before by the Winchesters. However, it lacks the blinking light corresponding to the tracking device placed on Nick. Alec turns it off and on, getting the same results. Jace stands next to him. They both sigh at the same time. _Damn it._

"The tracking device must have fried back at the bar when Chamsael appeared," Simon asserts.

"Or Nick might have destroyed it willingly," Clary sighs. "Either way, we're back at square one."

"Not necessarily," Alec keeps pressing keys. "We know their plan now. And as for their location, I can have our tracking team make an algorithm following Chamsael's electric distortion pattern. It could take a few hours, but it's the best shot we have if we want to locate him."

"I could track possible high demonic energy zones throughout New York," Jace volunteers. "We could send in scouting teams once I've located them."

"Fine," Alec supports him. "Take whoever you need. Just do it fast."

All those present bear witness to Alec's leading prowess despite his sister's kidnapping. Once again his look is deep, firm and determined. His voice recovers its calm and leading tone, leaving all the sighing behind. His orders transmit the proper confidence the head of the Shadowhunter Institute needs to show.

"The rest of you use this time to heal your wounds. We must stop that demon and bring my sister back. It's gonna' be a hard battle. Only this time, we'll be ready for him."

Sam enters the strategy room again. Everyone stares at him.

"What?" He stares back. "What'd I miss?"

"Alec's great morale boosting speech here," Dean mocks the Shadowhunter. "Did you talk to Mick?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"He just sent that weird creepy guy, Ketch, with the gun. He'll meet us in a couple of hours at some alleyway in Brooklyn."

"All right, let's get that baby," Dean fixes his jacket. "We'll call once we have it. I hope you'd have found where that demon is hiding by then."

"We'll be in touch, Winchesters," Alec replies. "You can call Magnus in case you need fast travel."

"Right," Sam answers.

"Oh, hell no!" Dean complains. "No more portals, please! Last time I..."

"Nope, don't say it," Sam interrupts him and pushes him towards the exit. "We'll call."

The brothers notice Castiel doesn't make the slightest gesture to leave with them. They stop near the strategy room's exit and stare at him. The angel doesn't notice them.

"Cass, you're not coming?"

"I'd like to stay here for now," Castiel claims. "I have several questions for the Shadowhunters, and I feel something is compelling me to stay. It's some kind of a hunch."

"A pure and holy being like you is more than welcome to stay at our institute," Alec welcomes him. "Feel free to use our library and ask anything you need to know. We'll be happy to help."

"Thank you."

"Suit yourself, then," Dean walks away, smiling and mumbling complaints about Alec's sentence. " _Pure and holy my..._ "

The Winchesters exchange numbers with Magnus Bane before leaving, and wave goodbye to the rest. They swiftly reach the exit and push the double doors. Seeing the Impala parked outside, all safe and sound, makes Dean both happy and relieved. _How I missed you, baby,_ he thinks while caressing its shiny black hood.

* * *

 _Alleyway set for the appointment, Brooklyn, New York, 6:30 A.M._

The Winchesters remain seated inside the Impala, observing the sun's attempts to emit its first rays. The car's old cassette player plays the unmistakable melody of Aerosmith's song _"Jaded"_ at a moderate volume. Dean leans back on his seat and slowly shuts his eyes while Sam stays alert. The latter looks around, his eyes wrinkled, trying to distinguish any approaching vehicle or human figure from within the fog, caused by steam exhausts from nearby buildings. He soon spots a black Chevrolet Suburban SUV emerging from the thick white smoke. _That must be Ketch,_ he deduces. He wakes his brother up with elbow hits.

The driver parks the SUV near them and slowly lowers his black tinted glass. A well-known face appears at the open car window. Sam notices that the ruthless hunter from the British Men of Letters maintains a decent appearance, shown by a perfectly shaved face, an impeccable hair and a dark clean suit, adorned by a tie as red as blood. The bright shining from his vehicle's body overcomes the nearby fog.

"Sam, Dean," Ketch greets them. "Nice seeing you, as always."

"Yeah, Whatever," Dean shows discomfort. "Did you bring what we asked for?"

Ketch hands him over a brown leather bag with strange writings sewn on it. Dean swiftly pulls its content out, revealing itself to be an old and familiar Colt Patterson Replica. The revolver shape, the pentagram carved on its handle and the inscription on its barrel allow them to recognize it as _The Colt_ , showing a discreet smile when holding it. Sam inspects its cylinder, realizing it lacks one of the six bullets it can hold. The British hunter notices his discomfort.

"Six bullets were created using the ritual you taught us," Ketch addresses Sam. "However, in order to avoid any kind of bad surprise, I took the liberty of testing one of them on the way here, putting a quite aggressive vampire to rest. Guess what? It works just fine."

"Right," Sam sighs.

"Anyways, there should be enough ammo in there to kill Chamsael. One shot to the head or the heart should suffice. You'll be able to knock yourselves out."

"Not that we like you so much, but," Sam stares at Ketch. "Wouldn't you, you know, like to join us?"

"Unfortunately, I can't be running around with you two on this one. I have important businesses to tend to here in New York."

"More important than an ancient demon with a soul-burning nuke on his hands?"

"I trust you two are perfectly capable of handling the situation," Ketch smiles. "Besides, you have help, and you've fixed worse messes in the past. At least this one wasn't caused by your actions."

The Winchesters stare at Ketch with disapproval, which seems to cause him no regret. Instead, he pulls two fine cardboard files from inside his car and hands them over to Dean. \

"Our boys did some digging about the two misfits serving Chamsael," Ketch says. "You'll find the content enlightening. Quite an interesting past they both have, especially the she-wolf."

"What about Chamsael?" Dean asks.

"We only have the info Mick gave you. There's nothing else on him."

"All right," Dean sighs. "We'll take it from here."

"I'd advise you to be careful with that Chamsael fellow," Ketch warns them. "No hunter has ever faced the Archduke of Hell before. That creature's been locked up for thousands of years, with powers still unknown even by his fellow demons."

"We'll be fine," Dean brags. "We took on Lucifer himself and won. A steroid-powered demon doesn't stand a chance against us."

"I must go now," Ketch starts his SUV. "Bring the gun back when you're done. Good luck."

Ketch drives out of the alleyway and disappears into the thick white fog. The Winchesters ignore him, gazing at the Colt and embracing the sense of power and safety it transmits. Sam makes a call from his cellphone.

"Alec, we have the gun, along with substantial information regarding Beatrice and Nick."

"See you back at the Institute, then," Alec replies.

* * *

 _Shadowhunter Institute, Manhattan, New York, 8:30 A.M._

Upon returning to the Institute, the Winchesters show all the things Ketch brought them to the Shadowhunters. The Colt lays on the table at the Strategy Room, along with the files containing data about Nicholas Andrew Clay, Beatrice Swatter and Chamsael. All three individuals' holographic images float over the interface. Sam manages to notice Castiel's absence. _Where the hell is he now?_

"Let's see if I understood," Jace says. "Beatrice was born out of a Demon pact?"

"It isn't that simple," Sam starts explaining. "Her mother couldn't conceive and wanted to have children badly, so she made a deal with a crossroads demon. Obviously, her wish was granted in exchange for her soul."

"But it says here Beatrice was orphaned when she was five years old," Alec rebates him. "Isn't a deal normally made for ten years?"

"Apparently, the demon recurred to a loophole in the contract, causing both parents' premature death via traffic accident."

"How sad," Clary gets touched by the story. "Damn demons..."

"Since she was conceived after the deal, her soul was tainted before being born," Alec deduces. "Her thirst for vengeance on the demon added some blackness to the pot, and in turn it was filled when she was turned into a werewolf, strengthening her bounds with Edom. She's the perfect candidate to communicate with a higher rank demon like Chamsael."

"Edom?" Dean mutters to Jace. "Where the hell is that?"

"Hell..."

"Oh..."

"What about Nick?" Clary asks.

"Same thing we dug up so far," Sam answers. "He worked for a guy who was laundering money, got in too deep and got murdered. Apparently, a vampire felt sorry for him and turned him in order to save his life."

"And then she was murdered by the Soul Sword," Clary lowers her sight.

"Jeanette Enlacroix," Sam pulls out a paper from Nick's pile. "She looked nice, and apparently Nick was quite fond of her. The rest of his motivations feed his chaotic personality and his typical vampire behavior."

"What about Chamsael?" Alec asks. "Anything on him?"

"Not much..."

"Sam, come check this out!"

Sam's explanation gets interrupted by his brother's calling, who had been paying attention to one of the lobby's holographic screens transmitting the news channel. All follow him towards the broadcast. Alec raises the volume.

 _"According to local authorities, Mr. Thomas Blossom's death took place last night while being alone at home. No signs of forced entry or violence so far, but the way the corpse was found strongly suggests it was a homicide. We will now broadcast the images. Viewer discretion is advised."_

The beautiful reporter's face switches to a set of images from the crime scene. The Winchesters stare in shock at Mr. Blossom's still dressed body, cut in half with his legs missing. It hangs from the ceiling in bloody barbed wire, which restraints circle his forehead, neck, arms and hands.

"God," Clary covers her mouth with both hands.

"What the hell...!"

Dean's complaint is soon interrupted by his cellphone's ringing, showing an unknown number on the screen. He hesitantly answers.

"Agent Summers..."

"Cut the crap, Dean," Luke Garroway's voice answers from the other side. "You saw the news yet?"

"Yeah, it looks pretty ugly out there."

"I never thought I'd say this, but I need you and your brother to don your fake FBI costumes and get here as fast as you can. No Glamour."

"We'll be right there, detective."

Everyone gathers around Dean. Sam stares at him, raising his brows in an interrogative way. Jace, Clary and Alec do the same.

"Garroway is at the Blossom residence," Dean addresses his brother. "He needs us there A.S.A.P."

"Let's get you Glamoured then," Alec proposes.

"No!" Dean stops him. "He specifically said _no Glamour._ We go in, same as we always have. Thanks anyways."

"No problem."

"Off we go, then," Sam walks towards the exit, followed by Dean. "We'll keep you posted on updates. Just call us if you locate Chamsael."

"We will," Alec reassures him.

Before leaving the Institute, Dean goes back to the Strategy Room and swiftly grabs the Colt from the table, holstering it under his belt.

* * *

 _Blossom Residence, Howard Beach, Queens, 9:30 AM_

The Winchesters discreetly crawl under the yellow barricade tape marking the Blossom residence as a crime scene, both dressed in their FBI outfits. They show their fake badges to the two NYPD officers that spot them. Luke swiftly comes to their aid.

"It's all right. They're with me."

With the two officers dismissed, Sam and Dean put their badges away and discreetly follow the detective. The property is swarmed by cops and forensic scientists, and a loud noise can be heard coming from the streets beyond the legally impenetrable yellow line. The brothers manage to distinguish police sirens, TV choppers and a loudly curious civilian crowd. _Man, the first time we came here, this place was a graveyard,_ Dean remembers.

The inside of the house is as swarmed as the outside. Despite having all the electrical lights on, the decorations are barely distinguishable due to the presence of abundant NYPD personnel. They immediately reach the living room where they had interviewed Mr. Blossom. A strong and unbearable sulfur smell surpasses any other. _Demons?_ They ask themselves.

Near the still lit chimney, the brothers lively see what they had seen previously in the news. _What the hell?_ Both raise their brows when they notice Mr. Blossom's torso hanging from the ceiling with barbed wire, cut from the waist down, with some of his guts visible to the naked eye. The tight and macabre metal ties circle his forehead, neck and arms, leaving what remains of the body in a position similar to a crucified Jesus Christ. The sharp points penetrating the flesh still leak blood.

"Where are his legs?" Dean asks.

"The boys are still searching for them," Garroway replies. "No sign of forced entry so far, and with this ugly scene I'm supposing this is our kind of case."

Sam activates his EMF detector and stares at how the five little red lamps turn on instantaneously. _Damn,_ he thinks while looking at the high indicator. He notices a weirdly staring police officer, making him put the device away. _Not the right time. Too many people._

"Dean, the EMF almost bursts," he mutters. "There's high frequency here, and it reeks of sulfur here. This man's death was caused by several monsters."

"Monsters?" Garroway asks. "What kind?"

"We won't know for sure until we get a good look at the place."

"Give me two minutes..."

Garroway walks towards one of the officers and speaks to him, without Sam and Dean bothering to try and overhear. The officer walks towards the center of the living room and orders everyone else to abandon it. The Winchesters watch with ease as all NYPD personnel leaves.

"Perks of having an authentic police badge," the detective brags. "We have little time, so let's make this as quick and thorough as possible."

The brothers and Garroway cover their hands using blue latex gloves and quickly get to work. They notice the numerous blood stains on the floors and walls, one of them splashing one of the Blossom family paintings. The flames coming from the chimney remain noticeable despite the fully lit Venetian glass roof lamp. The smell of sulfur grows stronger by the minute, mildly mitigated by the stench coming from Mr. Blossom's corpse.

"Guys, come see this!"

Sam and Garroway rapidly attend to Dean's call from the chimney's bronze railings. Both notice that his glove is stained with a black substance known to the hunters. _Ectoplasm?_ Sam asks himself. _Ghosts too, then?_

"Sulfur, ectoplasm," Dean says. "It's like the whole army of darkness attacked this poor man."

"With all we've seen in New York, I'm not shocked," Garroway claims. "We've ended up chasing two Downworlders and one big-ass demon with a less than good agenda. Who knows what will happen next."

While listening to Garroway, Sam notices what seems to be ectoplasm stains on the floor, laying a path out of the living room. _Footprints?_ He asks himself while staring at the clumsily straight pattern. He shows the whole thing to his team.

"Let's see where this leads," he says.

Dean and Garroway follow him out of the living room. The path made by the stains takes them upstairs, towards a long corridor with lots of doors. They eventually reach an incompletely open room from which an even stronger sulfur smell emanates. They all draw their guns. Sam takes point and slowly pushes the hinging door.

All three enter a room with its walls and floor painted in a white and pink mixture. A single size bed lies at the center, covered with sheets bearing the same aforementioned colors. In front of it, they see a white mahogany shelf, with several of its compartments occupied by animal plush toys. The wall over the bed shows the name _"Cassidy"_ painted on it in an artistic shape.

"This must be the deceased Cassidy Blossom's room," Garroway deduces. "What would the killer want with...?"

The detective stops formulating his question when he sees a pile of photos lying on the bed. He puts his gun away and takes a look at them, followed by the Winchesters. They notice that the pictures depict Cassidy Blossom and her friend Annie Stillman in different places and settings. _That's the girl we met during our investigation,_ Sam remembers. All team members get edgy when they see that Annie's eyes and mouth are either perforated, cut off or burnt in every single image.

"Forget what I asked," Garroway drops the photos. "We must get to that girl's house _now_."

"You don't have to tell us that twice," Dean says.

"Damn demons," Sam complains. "They're going after Cassidy's family and friends now? What's wrong with them?"

"Don't know, don't care," Dean rushes down the stairs. "We have to save her."

Just when the team is about to reach the living room, Garroway's cellphone rings, showing the name of Alec Lightwood on the screen. The detective answers and puts it on loudspeaker.

"Alec."

"Luke, we have a serious problem," Alec says from the other side. "I need your help."

"What's wrong?"

"I got reports of various demon attacks throughout the city, and I had to send almost all Shadowhunters away. It's total chaos out there."

"You need help with the demons?"

"Not with the demons," Alec sighs. "I got that covered. I need help with Magnus."

"What's with him?" Garroway asks.

"I called to warn him, but he doesn't answer his phone. I'm seriously worried, and I can't leave the Institute with everything that's going on. Clary, Jace and Simon are on the field, and I've got no one else to send over. Could you...?"

"Alec, it's not a good time..."

"Yes, Luke is going to go check on Magnus!" Dean meddles in, under the detective's disapproval look. "Go and help the lovebirds. We'll take care of Annie Stillman."

Sam and Dean don't give Garroway the time to decline. Both rush towards the exit and reach the Impala in a matter of seconds. They man their seats almost instantaneously.

"Man, I hope we're not too late," Dean sighs while tire-screeching his way out of there.

* * *

 _Annie Stillman's apartment, Astoria, Queens, 9:50 A.M._

The Winchesters quickly run through the empty corridor towards Annie Stillman's apartment door. Dean rings the bell several times and gets no response, prompting him to knock on the black wooden door with his bare fist. _Dude, calm down,_ Sam shows him a hand signal. The latter spots black stains on the floor, forming a pattern towards the inside.

"Dean," Sam touches his brother's shoulder.

The Winchesters draw their guns and take point. They wait three seconds before breaching. Sam kicks the door. _Let's do this._

Both crash into the apartment and find a startled Annie Stillman, painting an autumn landscape over a canvas. The girl stands from her stool, barefooted, still holding her painting brush. She looks at them with her eyebrows lifted. _She's wearing the same clothes,_ Dean remembers the day they met her.

"Um, agents," Annie greets them in shock. "Something I can help you with?"

"Well…"

"There's no time to explain," Sam interrupts Dean's babbling. "We need to take you to a safe place _now_."

"Why? What's going on?"

Annie's questions are soon interrupted by the sudden closure of the apartment door, followed by the bursting of several light bulbs and an intense sulfur smell. The air turns so cold that it mists all the window glasses.

"Well, _that's_ why," Dean answers.

The brothers hear the sound of a ghost piercing the veil behind them. Before they can turn around and see, something hurls them towards Annie Stillman. They swiftly get up and shoot in that direction, hitting nothing but air. _Damn..._

A strange being then appears out of thin air. The Winchesters and Annie Stillman find themselves before a blond, naked girl, with her skin adopting a bluish color. Her eyeballs are completely black, and a dark drool comes out from her mouth, similar to the ectoplasm forming the tracks back at the Blossom residence. The brothers notice her exposed breasts are devoid of nipples and her crotch is completely flat, showing no traits of external genitals.

"Cassidy," Annie cries as she recognizes her friend. "My god..."

Sam draws a sawed-off shotgun and swiftly fires a rock salt shell at Cassidy. The undead girl takes the shot without dissipating and screams loudly. He fires a second time with equal results. _What the hell?_

Cassidy warps and appears before Sam, swiftly grabbing him by the neck and tossing him against a table at the center of the living room. Dean grabs his brother's shotgun and shoots her in the back. Far from dissipating, she emits a scream so screechy that all glasses shatter. The dead girl then runs towards a standing up Sam and hurls him against a wall with a two hand push.

"What the hell is she?!" Dean loses his temper.

"She looks like a ghost, but salt doesn't seem to affect her!" Sam asserts while trying to stand up. "Let's try iron!"

"Iron it is, then."

Dean spots a nearby iron floor lamp, grabs it with both hands, removes its white screen and hits Cassidy's head with its pole. Far from vanishing, the undead girl turns around and punches the hunter's chest, hurling him against a pile of empty easels. Sam helps him up. Annie remains in her corner.

"What do we do now?" Dean asks.

Cassidy slowly walks towards Annie Stillman, vanishing and reappearing several times before reaching her. Annie doesn't say a word. Her green eyes drop a few tears as she stares at what has become of her friend. The ghostly girl warps near her.

"Cassidy," Annie whines. "What happened to you?"

The undead girl screams so loud and screechy that Sam and Dean are forced to cover their ears. Annie seems to remain unaffected. She manages to touch and caress her friend's hair and face. Cassidy stands still, gradually reducing the intensity of her screams.

"This is all my fault," Annie continues crying.

"ANNIE, STOP!" Sam yells while reloading his shotgun. "GET AWAY FROM HER!"

"I invited you to my party," Annie continues her speech. Cassidy roars and cracks her neck repeatedly. "I just wanted you to leave that religious hole in which you were always so immersed."

Sam aims his shotgun at Cassidy. His finger lays ready to pull the trigger, trembling while it touches its cold and insipid iron. _It's just a rock salt shell,_ he tries to stay calm as he seemingly can't get a clear shot. Something prevents him from shooting. _Is it her? Am I afraid to hurt Annie with the salt? Or is it my previous futile attempts?_ Seeing Annie hug her undead friend gives him the answer. _I wanna' see what happens._

Sam's hesitation makes Dean grab the Colt and aim it at Cassidy. Without noticing the hunter, Annie strongly hugs her undead friend, who remains still and looks back at her. Her mouth begins drooling profusely. Her hand touches her living friend's back. The elder Winchester then hammers the revolver.

"DEAN, NO!" Sam stops him.

"PLEASE, I BEG YOU TO FORGIVE ME!" Annie kneels in front of Cassidy. "If it weren't for my stupidity, you wouldn't have fled my house and lost your life! Please, I beg you, forgive me! Kill me afterwards if you like, but please! I need to know you forgive me!"

After hearing Annie's pleads, Cassidy stares at her and drops two black lines of ectoplasm tears from each one of her blackened eyes. She then pulls her right hand backwards, closes her fist and aims at her living friend's heart. Annie shuts her eyes and smiles.

"I'm sorry, Cassidy..."

With her crying eyes shut, Annie hears a gunshot, followed by a series of short, throaty and guttural moans. She opens her eyes and sees Cassidy bleeding ectoplasm from her eyes, nose and mouth, accompanied by a sparking and shiny white wound on her chest. The sparks glow more intense until they emit a blinding flash, after which the body of the undead girl disintegrates. A trinket in the shape of a crucifix appears on the floor.

"NO!" Annie yells. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!"

"You're welcome?" Dean disagrees with her reaction.

Annie picks up the chain and crucifix from the floor. She kisses the objects in tears. Sam tries to comfort her.

"Get out," Annie rejects him. "Leave me alone with her. Let me honor her like she deserves."

"But..."

"I SAID GET OUT!"

Dean holsters the Colt, grabs his brother by the shoulder and pulls him out of the apartment. Sam keeps staring at Annie Stillman until they reach the exit.

"We saved her, man," Dean mutters. "You know how it goes. Let's get the hell outta' here."

Sam reluctantly follows his brother out of the building and into the Impala. Once inside the car, Dean starts it and drives towards the Institute. He grabs his cellphone and dials Garroway's number He puts it on speaker once the detective answers the call.

"How'd it go?"

"Cassidy Blossom came back in the form of a monster we had never seen before," Dean replies. "Some kind of materialized ghost reeking of sulfur, immune to rock salt and iron. However, we could easily finish her with the Colt."

"What about Annie Stillman?"

"Safe and sound."

"Good," Garroway sighs in relief. "Magnus here killed a bunch of army-dressed demons by himself. It seems I came late to the party."

"Then Alec was right," Sam acknowledges. "Magnus was indeed attacked by Chamsael's demons."

"I just spoke to Clary too," Garroway says. "She says most of the attacks in the city are being perpetrated by demons possessing military mundanes. Seems like an all-out strike ordered by Chamsael."

"What's he planning?" Sam asks.

"Well, surely nothing good," Dean claims. "He's searching the city for demonic energy, and he's trying hard."

"Sam, Dean, something occurs to me," Magnus abruptly meddles in. "Remember our friend Castiel specifying that the Shield of Despair needed _enormous_ quantities of demonic energy to be activated?"

"Yeah," Dean answers. "Alec sent his people to inspect the places bearing that kind of juice, in and out of the city. What's your point?"

"Listen to me," Magnus raises his voice. "The Institute is powered by a reactor bearing high levels of celestial energy. Valentine Morgenstern powered the Soul Sword using it."

"And?"

"Don't you guys see it?" Magnus loses his patience. "Chamsael sends his demons to cause chaos all around the city. He's forcing us to intervene far from the Institute."

"You mean he's planning on using the Institute's reactor?" Sam asks. "You said yourself it's powered by celestial energy, not demonic."

"Unless it is corrupted," Magnus clarifies.

"Come again?" Dean gets startled.

"Celestial energy can turn very, very obscure," Magnus explains. "You just need a few rituals and some willingly expendable demons. After all, those wretched creatures were once human, and had a soul made of pure light."

"It's the same principle as when Lucifer corrupted Lilith," Sam deduces. "A soul made out of pure light twisted repeatedly, until it eventually turned dark."

"Son of a bitch," Dean complains. "He's been planning this since the beginning."

"We need to head back to the Institute _now_ ," Garroway says. "Chamsael played us. He might as well already be there."

"Easy, detective," Magnus comforts him. "Having Nick on his team slows him down until night comes. That vampire has the characteristic pale skin of a vampire vulnerable to sunlight."

"That might help us turn this around," Dean calmly replies. "If we know where he's headed, we might be able to trap him, so I can put a bullet on his head."

"You're not _serious_ , are you?" Magnus complains. "Are you telling me you're going to use the Institute as _bait_?"

"Call it an ambush," Dean accelerates the Impala. "We can take the lead on this one."

"Any ideas?" Garroway asks.

"Gather everyone in the Institute's strategy room. I've got a plan."

* * *

 _Outside the Shadowhunter Institute, Manhattan, New York, 8:30 P.M._

The group led by Chamsael nears an enormous cathedral. Nick looks at the ruined and empty building with strangeness. Isabelle, however, recognizes the place. _What are we doing at the Institute?_

"It's here," Chamsael says. "The New York Shadowhunter Institute. That's where our energy source is waiting for us."

"I just see an old, empty church," Nick smiles while holding Isabelle's handcuffed arms.

"That's what they want us to see," Chamsael claims. "The reality is different. Watch."

The demon performs a small hand gesture at the cathedral. Isabelle widely opens her eyes and raises her brows when she sees the Glamour surrounding the Institute disappear. The place slowly changes under a descending pink aurora, with the windows showing light emanating from inside and the nearby plants changing from dead leaves and dry stems to square lively cypress hedges. After the illusion completely fades, Chamsael spots the Winchesters, Magnus and the three remaining young Shadowhunters protecting the doors.

"Oh, how cute," Nick smiles while Isabelle struggles to get free. "Your friends are waiting for us."

"It seems they discovered our ruse," Chamsael brags. "Shame. They could have lived a few hours more."

"All right, gang," Dean mutters. "Stick to the plan and everything should play out."

Chamsael, Nick and Beatrice smile defiantly in front of Clary, Jace and Alec's angry gazes. Sam's eyes fixate themselves on the powerless and restrained Isabelle, who stares back at him. She struggles and tries to break free from her captor's strong arms. Nick buries his fingers on her skin.

"HOLD...STILL!"

The vampire pulls his shiny fangs out and bites his captive Nephilim's neck. Isabelle's pupils dilate instantly. Her impulse to break free is quickly calmed while the vampire venom takes effect in front of Alec's angry eyes. Clary and Jace draw their Seraph Blades.

"I've had it," Alec loads an arrow and aims his bow at Nick. "Time to end this."

The Nephilim leader shoots his projectile towards the vampire's head. Chamsael stands on its way, easily grabs it in the air and then arrogantly drops it. _Damn it,_ Alec loads another arrow. Clary and Jace charge against Nick and Beatrice.

"Okay, here we go," Dean mutters. "Magnus, do your thing!"

Magnus starts weaving his hands while Sam and Dean draw their angel blades and charge straight against Chamsael. The Winchesters and the Nephilim couple relentlessly run towards their adversaries. Clary goes towards Beatrice. Jace takes the path towards Nick. Both monsters get ready to defend themselves while the demon remains arrogantly still before the Winchesters' approach. Isabelle can barely watch.

Once everyone is near enough, Chamsael waves both his arms in an arc and sends all the attackers flying. Sam and Dean hit a nearby tree. Jace and Clary are slammed against the sidewalk.

"Stupid maggots," Chamsael smiles. "They never learn."

Far from stopping, Dean gets up and kneels. He spots the demon walking towards Magnus and Alec, with the Nephilim leader's continuous arrow shooting slowing him down.

"SIMON! GARROWAY! YOU'RE UP!"

Garroway and Simon jump out of the nearby shadows and quickly charge against their respective counterparts, getting Isabelle released. Still poisoned by the tainted blood, she tries crawling out of the fighting place. Chamsael grabs her by her neck and effortlessly lifts her up.

"You can't just behave, can you?"

The mistreatment of Isabelle enrages Sam so much that he empties his gun clip on Chamsael's back. The bullets go through his vessel's army fatigues and into his skin. No blood comes out. Sam tries to reload.

"MAGNUS, HURRY UP!" Dean yells.

"JUST A BIT LONGER!"

While still holding Isabelle by her neck, Chamsael sends Sam flying with a small finger gesture. He then drops the Nephilim and sticks her to the floor using his telekinesis. Jace and Clary try attacking him one more time. He hurls them both away.

"Stupid maggots."

Chamsael looks around and sees his servants losing to Garroway and Simon. Far from going in their aid, he slowly and relentlessly walks towards Magnus, seeing that the latter continues casting a spell. Alec drops his bow and draws a Seraph Blade.

"There he comes," he mutters. "This is what we've been waiting for."

"DEAN, I'M READY!" Magnus yells while showing red sparks emanating from his hands.

"CASS, NOW!"

The demon's advance is halted by what he perceives as a couple of arms holding him firmly. His yellow and purple eyes see a pair of sleeves from a beige trench coat, covering a pair of hands that grab one another. Chamsael tries breaking free with minimal effort. His inability to do so forces him to see the true nature of his new attacker.

"Angel," he sighs. "I hadn't seen one in millennia..."

"WELL DONE!" Magnus smiles. "TAKE THIS, YOU DEMON!"

The Warlock launches a red energy bolt towards Chamsael, causing an intense spark upon reaching its target. His vessel's blond hair weaves strongly with the blast. His face show slight signs of pain that slowly change into a smile. The attack stops. The demon remains unharmed.

"This trick didn't work on me either, kid. You lost again."

Chamsael opens his arms and throws Castiel away from him. Alec charges at the demon, who arrogantly smiles and tries moving away. However, something prevents him from lifting his feet off the ground.

"What the...?"

Chamsael's smiley attitude changes. Along with Alec, he spots Clary, Jace, Sam and Castiel rushing at him from all sides. They all jump on him at the same time and try holding him tight by grabbing his vessel's neck, arms and legs.

"Stupid maggots..."

Without much effort, Chamsael suddenly opens his robust arms and swings them in an arc, spreading everyone who was holding him around. Magnus raises his brows when he sees Alec hit one of the Institute's outer brick walls. Sam helps break Clary's fall.

"Did you really think you could tackle me?"

"Honestly?" A voice asks him from behind. "No, we didn't..."

Chamsael hears a _"CLICK"_ behind his head. He turns around and sees Dean aiming an already hammered Colt at him. His vessel's eyebrows almost reach the sky. His yellow and purple eyes open dramatically.

"I just wanted to make sure you couldn't teleport away."

Dean pulls the trigger.

 _ ***BANG!***_

The shot produces a strong echo. The bullet goes straight into the demon's forehead. His head strongly shakes. His eyes remain staring at heaven. His whole body starts sparking heavily.

"NO!" Nick and Beatrice scream simultaneously.

Alec and Magnus hug, while the rest stare at the dying demon with happiness and relief. Chamsael's true form blinks and sparkles through his vessel's skin. His legs go soft. His arms fall and hang. His whole body starts convulsing in front of Dean. Sam uses the moment to help Isabelle stand up and place her behind him, both watching her captor's downfall in delight. The elder Winchester lowers the Colt as the sparkling grows stronger.

"We got him," Sam sighs.

"Yeah, we did," Isabelle leans on his back, still handcuffed.

Chamsael's demonic essence stops sparking.

"Nah, I was just messing with you guys."

Shadowhunters and Downworlders raise their brows as Chamsael stands up and faces Dean. His forehead bullet wound heals. His face shows his arrogant grin again. _No, this can not be_ , Sam complains.

"Funny, am I not?"

Chamsael punches Dean in the chest so hard he sends him flying. Afterwards, he weaves his hands and hurls Castiel, Garroway and Simon out of the scene.

"Let's continue as planned, shall we?"

The demon walks slowly towards Isabelle. Sam draws his angel blade and faces him.

"You won't take her."

Chamsael closes his fist, causing Sam such abdominal pain that he drops his weapon and lies on the pavement. He watches powerlessly as the demon telekinetically moves the still handcuffed Isabelle towards Nick. Alec and Magnus stand ready for combat.

"It is said that there are five things in all of creation that gun can't kill," the demon slowly approaches them, finishing his sentence with a sardonically defiant grin. "Just as it happens, I might be the sixth one."


	6. Chapter 5: Raziel's Pike

**CHAPTER 5 – RAZIEL'S PIKE**

Chamsael slowly walks towards the gates of the Shadowhunter Institute with his yellow eyes staring at the double doors. His steps make an echoing sound.

"You won't get through!" Alec stands in his way, Seraph Blade at hand.

A small hand gesture from the demon sends the Shadowhunter leader flying away. Using his other hand, Chamsael weaves his fingers and causes Magnus to forcibly levitate towards him. He grabs the Warlock by his neck and continues his advance.

"You know," Chamsael stares at Magnus' eyes. "Your spells are becoming a pain in my ass..."

Alec's eyes and eyebrows rise towards the sky when he sees the demon squeezing Magnus Bane's neck. The Warlock's vertebrae crack. His arms hang soon after. His eyes turn white.

"MAGNUS, NO!" Alec charges against the demon.

Before Alec could even reach him, Chamsael throws him back to the same spot as before, again using his telekinesis. He then drops Magnus Bane's body on the sidewalk. Nick and Beatrice grab the still handcuffed Isabelle and join their demonic master.

"Time to get on with our plan."

All three stand in front of the Institute's enormous entrance arch. Chamsael looks at it, stares at the walls on each side and smiles. His vessel's strong arms reach for the wood. The ground begins to shake.

"This is nothing..."

A shiny gold energy emanates from both his hands that completely engulfs the double doors. The light instantly turns into flames that reduce the wood to ashes. In mere seconds, the Institute's lobby can be seen from the outside, showing group of Shadowhunters charging at the attackers. Chamsael sends them all flying with his telekinesis.

"Out of my way," he smiles.

Right when Chamsael stands under the empty frame, Clary, Jace, and Castiel manage to stand up and charge against him all at the same time. An invisible force violently stops them when they are inches away from the ashes of the Institute's burnt doors.

"No vermin getting in today," Chamsael shows them the palm of his hand.

"Damn you," Alec barely stands up.

Chamsael closes his fist, after which a red wall materializes and replaces the Institute's burnt doors. The rest of the team stare at it while Alec slowly walks towards Magnus's inert body. He kneels upon reaching it.

"What happened?" Alec can't hold his tears from coming out. "WHY DIDN'T THE DAMN GUN WORK?!"

"Alec..."

"DON'T...!" Alec angrily interrupts Sam. "I don't wanna' hear it..."

Clary stands up and sees Castiel approach Magnus' body. The angel kneels, carefully examines the inert Warlock and stares back at her, emitting a discreet denial head sign. Everyone silently observes the scene, all with the same sore sights, lowered head and tightly sealed lips. Sam and Dean sigh in disdain as they watch Alec closing his eyes and discreetly sobbing.

"All right," the Shadowhunter leader dries his tears. "We're at an even worse position than square one."

"How do we stop Chamsael now?" Jace asks.

"Sam, Dean?" Clary turns her sights on the silent and head-lowered brothers.

"We got nothing," Dean claims. "If that gun didn't work, I don't know what else could..."

"DON'T YOU DARE GIVE ME THAT CRAP!" Alec grabs Dean by his leather jacket. "Magnus sacrificed himself trying to stop that damn demon! WE ALL HAVE! So don't tell me you got nothing...!"

Jace, Clary and Sam barely manage to separate them. Dean fixes his jacket and stares back at the angry Nephilim. Alec returns the gesture.

"What Sam and I meant to say is that us, Winchesters, got nothing, but maybe you guys do! A spell, a secret weapon, anything that might help us..."

"No," Alec lowers his sight. "I've got nothing either..."

"I do," Castiel says. "Although, I think you're not going to like it."

"Well, it's better than nothing," Jace intervenes. "Let's hear it."

"We could overload the Institute's reactor and cause a meltdown. Its celestial energy should be enough to smite Chamsael."

"With all due respect, Castiel," Jace slowly walks towards the angel. "AM I HEARING THIS RIGHT?! THE WHOLE CITY WOULD BE SMITED ALONG WITH IT! Millions would..."

"Still better than all of humanity, and _angels_..."

"No way," Alec firmly states. "There has to be another way..."

Castiel ignores the Nephilim and approaches the structure Chamsael erected. The angel notices it is made of flesh, bones and resin. Its whole layout adopts a spiral form, showing an extremely dark hole in the middle. He is soon pushed back by bony spikes emanating from it.

"I have seen this before," Castiel claims. "When we went to rescue Dean from hell, Lilith summoned a similar structure in order to halt our advance. The strength of an archangel was needed to bring it down."

"Great," Dean complains. "Gabriel and Raphael are dead, Lucifer's back in jail and Michael's lost his marbles. Any other _great_ ideas?"

"What about Raziel?" Sam asks. "Can't we summon him?"

"Only the Clave's high-ranking members know the secret to summon the angel Raziel," Alec answers. "They won't go for it unless it's an unsustainable situation."

"And what would you call _this_?" Dean raises his voice.

"Even if we were going to talk to them, they demand we seek an audience beforehand in order to establish our case. Then there's the trip to Idris..."

Dean stares at Alec, wrinkles his forehead and arches his right brow. Then he looks at his brother with both eyebrows raised. Sam shrugs his shoulders at his gesture. The Shadowhunter leader stops his explanation upon noticing their unawareness.

"It's time we don't have," he summarizes.

"What do we do then?"

Sam's question is followed by a throat clearing sound coming from behind his back, followed by a well-known voice. Castiel sighs when he hears it.

"Hello, boys."

Sam and Dean sigh at the same time, while the Shadowhunters omit the gesture and set their sights on the greeter. They see a middle-aged man, with an average height and a slightly fat build, showing an unshaved beard and a dark hair that shines under the artificial lights coming from the street lamps. He wears a clean black suit that highlights the paleness of his skin.

"Crowley," Dean stares at him after a discreet glaze. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you too, Dean," the man sighs and waves his hand at Sam. "Moose..."

"How dare you show your face here, Crowley?" Jace grabs his Seraph Blade. "I should end you here and now..."

Crowley quickly snaps his fingers and makes Jace drop his blade, compelling the rest of the Shadowhunters to draw their weapons at him. Castiel stops them with a hand gesture.

"Good," Crowley puts his hands inside his black coat's pockets. "Feathers' here too."

"What do you want, _Crowley_?" Castiel asks.

"I want to help."

"I find _that_ hard to believe," Sam meddles in.

"Chamsael is about to do a very, very bad thing," Crowley slightly raises his voice. "It greatly affects my interests."

"Oh really?" Dean asks.

"Imagine a world with no souls to make deals for. My boredom would know no limits. I could just kill myself the moment he activates that damn shield."

"Oh, now you're talking," Dean grumbles. "I knew you wouldn't be here for the kindness of your heart."

"You know me too well."

"This is just too much," Alec complains. "Why are you guys talking to this _demon_? Do you know him?!"

"This _demon_ , young man, is the actual _King of Hell_ , and hence the only one capable of tearing down that _wall of flesh_. The only reason Moose and Squirrel here haven't tried anything is because they need me."

"Moose and squirr..." Jace shakes his head as he slowly approaches Dean. "You guys know Crowley?"

"Yeah," Dean faces him. "And it seems you guys know him too."

"Jace," Clary approaches the blond Nephilim. "Who is he? Why the long faces?"

"Crowley's a crossroads demon," Jace stares at the aforementioned. "The Institute has had to clean up many messes caused by him here in New York. Demonic deals, possessions, blasphemous rituals... There's no dark event that hasn't gone through his corrupted hands."

"I can't believe someone like that's in your friends list, Castiel," Alec sighs. "I'm disappointed."

"Oh, my relationship with the Winchesters and Feathers goes way beyond," Crowley stares at the Shadowhunters. "We've fought, worked together, stopped apocalyptic events... Hell, we even went partying!"

Sam, Dean and Castiel sigh at the same time. The Shadowhunters raise their brows while Simon and Luke keep their eyes fixated on Crowley, who slowly walks towards the flesh wall shutting the Institute's entrance. Once near it, he examines it from top to bottom.

"Can you tear it down?" Sam asks.

"Oh, yes, I've got the _mojo_ ," Crowley raises his left brow. "There are still two problems, though."

"Which are...?" Castiel shows exasperation.

"One: the ingredients," Crowley hands the angel a piece of parchment with words written on it. "Two: your plan."

"What does _that_ mean?" Garroway meddles in.

"What will you do, once that wall falls and you face Chamsael again? From what I saw, not even the Colt could kill him."

"Oh, you were here?" Dean sighs. "Why didn't you help out?"

"Well?" Crowley ignores the hunter's complaints. "I'm waiting for a solution here..."

"Cass has a plan," Dean replies.

"We agreed _that_ was out of the table," Alec interrupts. "Blowing up New York cannot be a solution."

"You've got anything better?"

"I do..."

The new voice attracts the staring of everyone present. They all gaze upon the figure standing at a moderate distance from the wall of flesh, dazed by the light its sole silhouette irradiates. The man's tallness, along with his blond hair and unique outfit turns out to be both familiar and peculiar. Clary shows a smile on her face when staring at his blue eyes.

"Clary, my child..."

"Ithuriel..." — Clary smiles as she pronounces his name.

With the aid of the park lamps, everyone manages to see a blond man wearing a white silk tunic, hidden under a bronze chest plate which design imitates his pectoral and abdomen muscles, and closed at waist level by a brown leather belt. His legs are covered by strings made with the same material as the belt attached to his heels, adorning two dark sandals that cover his feet.

"Perfect," Crowley complains. "Another angel, and with _wings_..."

"You...?" Castiel approaches the newcomer. "You _are_ Ithuriel, right?"

"And you must be Castiel," the man calmly retorts. "I've heard a lot about you, brother. Your deeds are well-known within our ranks."

"You bet," Crowley sighs. "Quite the _example_..."

"I can see you still have your wings," Castiel sighs.

"Lord Raziel shared his archangel ward with us when Metatron activated the spell," Ithuriel smiles. "We were lucky..."

"I'm glad for you, brother," Castiel looks down.

"And I'm glad for you," Ithuriel grabs the angel's shoulder. "You are the living example that proves no wings are needed to be a true Angel of the Lord..."

"Well, this reunion is beautiful and all, but we got serious problems to deal with," Dean interrupts the angels' moment. "Please, tell me you got something we can use."

"Dean, show some respect..."

"Dean is right," Ithuriel interrupts his wingless companion. "Chamsael is about to do something irreparably terrible for everyone. We must stop him."

The seemingly winged angel extends his arm and opens his hand. A bluish white smoke emanates from his palm that gradually adopts an elongated shape. Once its size matches Sam's, it slowly turns into a shiny golden pike.

"Is that...?" Castiel's eyes are wide open.

"Yes, brother," Ithuriel finishes his thought. "Behold, _Raziel's Pike_."

The Winchesters and the Shadowhunters gather around Ithuriel, gazing at the weapon's shiny and reflective gold coating. Luke and Simon walk a few steps backwards. The winged angel slowly approaches them.

"Do not be afraid, children of the dark," he smiles at them. "This weapon only acts according to Lord Raziel's will, and your demise is not it. On the contrary, Lord Raziel told me that the role of you Downworlders in the upcoming battle will be fundamental."

"Fundamental how, exactly?" Garroway asks.

"To be honest, I really do not know," Ithuriel answers. "I asked our lord that very same question, and the only answer he gave me was _that the battle will let us know_."

After his conversation with Simon and Garroway, Ithuriel slowly approaches Crowley. The King of Hell faces the winged angel and looks at him from top to bottom, showing a mild and discreet smile in the process. The celestial returns the gesture and stares at the demonic structure blocking the Institute's entrance.

"I heard you know a way to tear that flesh wall down..."

"I might," Crowley stares at him.

"Quit your games, Crowley," Dean scolds the demon. "There's not much time."

"How can I be sure that once that wall is torn down, _Wings_ here won't blast me into molecules?"

"Despite you being a demon, and the king of Hell, your demise is not one of Lord Raziel's wishes," Ithuriel faces him. "Besides, we know you will play an important role in future events."

"Really?" Crowley raises his left brow.

"Immediate and far events," Ithuriel smiles. "Besides, we all want Chamsael's demise."

"True."

The King of Hell approaches the flesh wall one more time. He stares at it, then turns around and faces the Winchesters and Shadowhunters alike, showing a weary sigh before setting back his sights on the demonic structure.

"Bring me the ingredients and I'll tear down this thing," Crowley brags. "After that, you're on your own."

"What?" Sam meddles in. "You're not coming?"

"Let's say that Chamsael has got some beef with me. You know, _power issues_. I'm taking a high enough risk as it is just by being here."

"Well, you've got wings, right?" Dean approaches Ithuriel. "Could you give us a fast ride?"

"My orders include not to abandon this area," Ithuriel explains. "If I do not comply, I will be cast back to Heaven."

"Great," Dean grumbles.

Ithuriel turns his attention towards Alec, who is kneeling next to Magnus Bane's lifeless corpse. His vessel's eyes go sore as he sees the Nephilim slowly closing the Warlock's still open eyelids. The Shadowhunter leader faces the winged angel, tears still falling down his pale face. He promptly cleans them with both hands and compulsively blinks.

"He was a Warlock, a creature of the dark, but he was my friend," he sobs. "He joined us in the fight against this wretched demon without any kind of hesitation. He didn't deserve to die like this..."

"I understand your pain..."

"The first time he helped us, Chamsael hurt him badly," Alec interrupts the angel. "That didn't stop him from a second time. He just ended up worse. He ended up _dead_."

"One of the reasons Lord Raziel made me come down here was to tend to Magnus Bane..."

Alec raises his brows as he sees Ithuriel approach his vessel's right hand to Magnus' corpse. Its palm starts projecting an intensely shiny golden light that forces everyone to cover their eyes. The Nephilim barely sees him touching his dead friend's head, subsequently covering his whole corpse in light. Its strong intensity barely allows him to complain.

"What are you...?"

Alec's sentence is suddenly interrupted when Castiel firmly grabs his wrist and stops him from intervening. The Nephilim raises his brows and presses his teeth as the intensity of the light engulfing Magnus Bane increases. His struggling becomes so violent that Sam and Dean are forced to assist the wingless angel in holding him.

"NO! LET ME GO! HE'S SMITING HIM!"

After a few seconds, the light engulfing Magnus Bane emits a flash so strong it dazes everyone. Alec looks at his dead friend once it fades. The winged angel pulls back his hand and smiles.

"As I said, _this_ was not Lord Raziel's will."

Alec's eyes go even shinier than the flash of light once he sees his friend awake, sitting on the floor and with all his wounds healed. Magnus slowly inspects his hands, face and torso, and then focuses his attention on his Nephilim lover. They both stare at each other.

"Alec..."

The Shadowhunter leader cuts Magnus' barely formed sentence with an intense kiss on the mouth, accompanied by a hug and then followed by a prolonged stare. Crowley and Dean look away, the latter discreetly raising his brows. The rest of the team smiles before the situation.

"Thank you," Magnus sighs and looks at a smiling Ithuriel. "It seems my resurrection by celestials' hands has become a thing lately,"

"All right," Alec addresses the team. "We have several problems to tend to. The first one is tearing down that wall of flesh."

"We have the list of ingredients needed for the spell," Dean asserts.

"May I have a look, please?" Magnus extends his open hand.

Dean hands the Warlock the list. The latter reads it and raises his brows upon reaching the end, then stares at the Winchesters and mildly smiles. Sam and Dean reciprocate the gesture.

"I have most of these back at my apartment," Magnus says. "I just need to open a portal and bring them here. It shouldn't take long."

"We're coming with you," Clary steps forward. "I won't risk losing you again."

"Your company is always a blessing, Clary" Magnus smiles.

"Once that wall is torn down, the second problem arises," Alec asserts. "Besides hordes of demons rushing at us, there's still the task of impaling that damn demon with Raziel's Pike. It isn't going to be easy."

"You bet," Dean reloads his gun. "That demon packs a ton. He'll sure put up a fight for which we must be prepared, for all our sakes."

Alec walks near Magnus and firmly grabs his shoulders. Both stare at each other for some seconds while the rest of the team members ready their weapons.

"Be careful," Alec says.

"Don't worry, I'll be fine."

Magnus moves his hands in circles. Yellow sparks start appearing on each one of his fingertips with increasing intensity, until they start leaving a trail. The conjured energy soon takes the shape of a portal with a dark center that shows blinking images of the insides of an apartment. After some minutes, the yellow energy becomes stable, and the image becomes permanent.

"Whenever you're ready," Magnus stares at both Clary and Jace.

"Let's go," Jace grabs his Seraph Blade.

Without further hesitation, the newly formed trio gathers up and jumps into the portal.

* * *

 _Inside the Shadowhunter Institute, Manhattan, New York, 10:30 PM_

An enormous and bulking muscle wall, filled with demonic tattoos inked with dark blood, constitute the sight of Chamsael's human vessel's back. The possessed man's legs are as well-shaped as his arms, and a pair of enormous dark wings protruding from his scapulae are merely visible by Isabelle's Nephilim sight, who tries to turn it away in vein. She tries distinguishing the details of his silhouette from the floor she is lying on.

"When Lord Lucifer told me about this weapon, I never thought of using it," the demon claims. "I mean, with no human souls to taint, and no angels to kill, Hell would only stagnate."

With her wrists still cuffed behind her back, Isabelle tries to stand up and escape through the Institute lobby's main exit. However, just as she reaches the door frame, Chamsael's vessel's fit and naked body, profusely bleeding through his tattoos, warps in front of her. His yellow and purple eyes stare deeply at her.

"However, I could see everything from my prison," Chamsael continues his speech. "I could see angels and humans stepping on us, humiliating us, endless and countless times. Light souled creatures never let us develop. They never let us demons flourish as we were meant to."

Chamsael weaves his right hand and telekinetically lifts Isabelle off the ground while he uses his other hand to open her cuffs. Once she is suspended and immobile, he makes her extend her hands horizontally. The Nephilim stares at him, moaning and grumbling as she pointlessly struggles.

"Years of pyrrhic victories and false hopes have granted you light creatures qualities that could prove to be insidious means of failure," Chamsael raises his voice. "Overconfidence, arrogance, _laziness_. Those _perks_ have allowed us to evolve and grow in silence."

The demon's facial expression changes all of a sudden, showing wrinkled eyebrows, widely open eyes, flattened nose and screeching closed teeth. He quickly opens both arms in an arch towards both sides and screams so loudly that some glasses in the room shatter. Isabelle watches in horror as her clothes are torn to shreds in a matter of seconds, exposing every single pore of her light skin.

"That silence ended the minute you dared killing two of my brothers... AND ACTIVATED THE SOUL SWORD!" Chamsael yells at Isabelle. "It's a sin, an offense, only punishable in one way..."

Isabelle feels a pair of sheets sliding through her naked body, slowly reaching her ankles, wrists, neck, breasts and waist. Once they are set, Chamsael violently closes his right fist. The Nephilim emits a gasping moan as the white silk wraps her aimed body parts tightly and violently. The demon levitates behind her As he whispers his speech's final words to her ear.

"Annihilation..."

Isabelle notices demonic sigils appearing on the sheets. She emits a scream as the compression on her breasts make them adopt the shape of two compact fleshy mountains, increasing the skin's brightness as the lights reflect on their upper parts. Her breathing turns gradually heavier as Chamsael whispers the rest of his plan to her ear.

"I'm going to drain your beautifully corrupted blood slowly, painfully, until the last drop fills the shield. You will bear witness to the agonizing extinction of every angel, every human and every damned light soul creature. And then, when it's all over, when all of them cease to exist, I will drag you to hell myself and taint out whatever light is left in you."

The demon's fingernail slowly grows, which he uses to inflict a V-shaped cut on Isabelle's naked chest. She screams and struggles as the unnaturally sharp keratin slowly separates her skin. Blood starts coming out from the almost unnoticeable rift, slowly forming a red trail as it crawls downwards. Once it stains the sheets, the red liquid levitates towards a structure mounted in front of her.

Isabelle raises her brows as she sees a crusader shield all covered in flesh and bones, mounted over a small dark altar made of a type of reddish stone unknown to her. She notices a bloody and lifeless human heart hanging in the middle of the artifact, held together by filaments of flesh and bony supports. She gasps as it starts beating once the first drops of her own levitating blood touches its ventricles. She feels her strength fading away with each unholy heartbeat, followed by an increasing somnolence state. Her current helplessness compels her to emit a desperate help plea, overlaid by the resounding laugh of her demonic captor.

 _"Someone... anyone... please... help me..."_

* * *

 _Shadowhunter Institute E_ _ntra_ _nce, Manhattan, New York, 11:30 P.M._

Sam and Dean gaze at Clary as she emerges from the previously opened portal, followed by Jace and Magnus. Each one carries a white linen bag with slopes that indicate their fullness. The Warlock grabs them all and walks towards Crowley, who stands near two copper bowls laid on the ground, each set over a pentagram painted in chalk.

"Did you bring everything?" Crowley asks.

"Yes, I did," Magnus empties the three bags near one of the bowls. "I almost depleted my stock."

"If we don't stop Chamsael, you will have no _stock_ ," Crowley raises his brows. "Quit yapping."

"Fairy teeth, werewolf blood, a piece of cobalt and mercury powder," Magnus checks the ingredients as Crowley mixes them in both bowls.

"Are you guys ready?" The King of Hell asks.

"Do it, already," Dean sighs.

After a defiant eye roll, Crowley starts pronouncing incomprehensible words out loud. Sam and Dean manage to distinguish some Latin terms in the sequence before it enters the refrain, moment during which they notice the sudden shattering of the glass on the nearby street lamps. The flesh wall starts shaking and bleeding from its fibers. _This is it_ , both brothers think while hearing the King of Hell's echoing chants´ until he shouts the spell's final word.

"ARDENTI!"

A set of bluish flames gradually engulf the demonic wall. Chunks of meat and bone begin to fall, disintegrating upon touching the walkway's cold stone and increasing in numbers as the relentless fire burns through the structure. Once it is completely devoured by the burning element, the flesh wall disintegrates, leaving only embers and traces of charcoal near the door frame.

"Here they come," Dean readies his angel blade.

A dozen men wearing army fatigues and bearing blackened eyeballs come out from inside the institute, yelling as they rush towards the invading team. The first one is stabbed by Sam's angel blade. Demonic sparks and bursts soon follow as angel and Seraph blades cut through the possessed soldiers' flesh. Lifeless bodies reverberate as they fall one after another until a deafening silence is finally heard.

"All right, move in," Alec orders.

The team enters the institute, all of them ignoring the soldiers' corpses as they reach the darkness in the middle of the wooden frame. They all look back as they wander into the abyss and notice that Crowley doesn't accompany them.

"You're not coming?" Dean inquisitively asks.

"No," Crowley answers. "Knock yourselves out. Let me know when you're done."

After Dean's eye roll and weary sigh, all team members gather around Alec. The Shadowhunter leader's words before going into battle echo through the empty corridors.

"No detours. No going back. The only way out... is _through_."

* * *

 _Inside the Shadowhunter Institute, Manhattan, New York, 12:00 AM_

The newly formed team, integrated by humans, Shadowhunters, Downworlders and angels, wanders into the Institute's lobby, standing immobile before the new layout. Desks and holo-screens that were once occupied by Nephilim personnel are empty. Every monitor lies on the ground, mostly with their screens devoid of their acrylic cover, while two of the four holographic interfaces are missing their boards. The floor is littered with papers, clipboards and glass fragments. Most of the chairs lie distant from their original post.

More than the evident signs of struggle and death, the new structure present all over the walls stands out. The team sees the masonry covered by a network of tentacles spread all over the room, with a composition similar to the Wall of Flesh. All notice that it is made mostly of bones and meat, the latter being the most abundant, with blood continuously dripping all along its extensions, and hence decorating the nearby walls and floors with a disturbingly darkened red color.

"Where is everyone?" Clary asks.

"Survivors must have been evacuated to Idris," Alec asserts. "The others, well..."

"Any of you seen this before?" Dean stares at the bleeding tentacles.

" _That_ is demonic architecture," Ithuriel explains. "During the Incursion, many places in this beautiful planet were covered in these vile decorations. They are generally present when there is a nearby important structure, or _artifact_."

"The Shield of Despair," Clary deduces. "We must hurry."

"All tentacles converge towards the main hall," Jace shows a set of double doors with its wooden frame heavily covered by the tentacles. "I bet that's where our demon has set up shop."

Jace unsheathes his Seraph Blade before opening the double doors. Once the wood is out of the way, he finds himself in front of another Wall of Flesh, with a darker and bigger hole in its center. The blonde Nephilim falls on his butt when he sees a big, eyeless yellowish head come out of the round darkness. The monster opens a big mouth with a big pair of purple gums, from which four sets of abundant sharp teeth emanate. The whole structure vibrates when it emits a screeching loud roar, before slowly going back inside.

"What...the hell...was _that_?" Simon babbles.

"Demonic protection sentries," Ithuriel says. "I had not seen one so strong in millenia."

"We need to get in there, and fast," Clary breathes heavily. "Chamsael is obviously in there, and I bet the shield's there with him."

"And Izzy," Alec sighs as he sheathes his sword.

Magnus slowly walks near Alec, minding each step he takes before reaching him. The Nephilim leader keeps his sights set on the Warlock once he notices his approach. The latter stands before him. Both hands grab his friend and lover's cheeks.

"Alec, we all know Chamsael has powers that escape our very imagination," Magnus says. "We have tried to kill him in many ways. None have worked so far."

"What do you mean?" Alec asks.

"We need a _plan B_ ," Magnus claims. "I know you are not fond of the idea, but..."

"NO!" Alec yells. "I'M NOT GOING FOR IT! I'M NOT GOING TO TOUCH THAT REACTOR!"

"Alec, Castiel's plan is not entirely wrong. If Raziel's Pike fails..."

"IT WON'T FAIL! IT CAN'T! IT...SHOULDN'T...!"

"You know _it_ _can_ _happen_..."

"Magnus is right, Alec," Jace intervenes. "We made the same mistake with the Colt. We must have a contingency plan."

"ARE YOU INSANE?!" Alec loses his temper. "ARE YOU WILLING TO LET MILLIONS DIE OVERNIGHT?! THERE MUST BE ANOTHER WAY!"

"We may not have time to figure out another way," Magnus retorts.

"Then you guys must not let things get that bad," Castiel breaks his silence and enters the conversation. "This isn't the first time we face a situation like this. When facing world extinction events, none of us have given up. The Apocalypse, Leviathans, Lucifer, Amara... We have handled them all without the amount of casualties they were supposed to bear. Chamsael is no different. However..."

"Not you too," Alec sighs.

"If things go sideways, the generator meltdown could be used as a last resort," Castiel concludes. "We can't afford to lose Heaven. Earth can not afford that."

"I agree with you there, Castiel," Ithuriel says. "I have faith in all of you, and I have faith in Lord Raziel. However, having someone near that generator would not hurt, in case we fail."

"This is insane," Alec sighs and leans against the nearby wall while looking down. "However, I have no choice but to agree. Someone does need to stay near the angelic generator, in case Raziel's Pike doesn't kill Chamsael."

"In order to overload an angelic reactor, an angel is needed to channel its grace towards the nucleus," Ithuriel explains. "I would stay, but you need me to carry the pike into battle."

"Then I'll do it," Castiel volunteers. "It was my idea, anyways..."

"Cass," Dean grabs the angel by his beige trench coat.

"Just make sure things don't go _that_ far," Castiel addresses the Winchesters. "I'm counting on you."

"All right," Alec grabs his Seraph Blade. "Castiel, take the door to my right towards the generator. You will see the stairs with a sign on the wall that leads to it. You will overload it on my order only. The others, get ready. We're going after..."

The sound of Alec's voice gets overlaid by a loud and tearing scream coming from behind the flesh wall. The Winchesters, Shadowhunters and Downworlders raise their brows high. Sam closes his fists, burying his nails on his palms.

"Izzy!" Clary screams. "We're coming! Just hold on!"

Clary rapidly grabs her Stele and starts drawing a circular pattern on her hand, followed by a V-shaped figure. She then turns her recently marked palm towards the wall, from which a blinding yellow light emanates.

"CLARY, WAIT!" Jace rushes towards her.

In mere seconds, the light touches the demonic wall and produces an intense flash. Everyone covers their eyes before the light until its complete dissipation. Once it clears out, all witness the monstrous head from before bathed in flames. The creature screams in pain before it disintegrates, leaving a big hole in its place from which everyone can see the inside of the main hall.

"Castiel, get to the generator!" Alec orders. "The rest of you, FOLLOW ME!"

As all team members comply with Alec's orders, they notice the devastation produced by Clary's rune. _That was the Sun Rune_ , Jace recognizes the drawing pattern. Sam and Dean notice that the wall starts regenerating and thus closing back. They rush towards it. Alec imitates their actions.

"We must hurry!" He yells at the rest.

The Winchesters' run is suddenly and violently halted. Both their backs and heads make an echoing sound as they impact the floor. Alec stops running and rushes to their aid, only to be punched, kicked and pummeled by an invisible assailant. The rest of the team members unsuccessfully search for the attacker, being rapidly knocked down one by one.

"I like these new powers," a known voice brags from the darkness.

Once they regain balance, the Winchesters notice Nick and Beatrice standing between them and the closing flesh wall, cracking their necks as they laugh at their beaten enemies. All team members face them with weapons at hand.

"We won't let you in," Beatrice calmly says. "Our master is busy. He has no time to deal with the likes of you."

Without hesitation, Simon and Luke rapidly charge against their respective counterparts, followed by Clary, Jace and Alec. Sam and Dean draw their guns and start shooting at Beatrice, who easily dodges every bullet that goes her way. Nick pushes Simon away and appears before the Winchesters, knocking them both down with a single high speed punch to their faces. He then pushes Clary and Jace against the nearby wall.

"You will never learn," he chuckles.

Alec comes from behind him and tries cutting his head off with his Seraph Blade. However, the speed of his sword slash proves to be no match for the vampire's, as the latter rushes behind the Shadowhunter leader and knocks him down with a kick. From his downed position, he sees Nick and Magnus being pummeled and pushed away by Beatrice.

"You don't get it, do you?" The redhead female Werewolf brags. "Chamsael has improved us and has greatly enhanced our abilities. There's no way you can beat us."

"You are nothing compared to us," Nick walks near a downed Simon. "You? A Vampire? Don't make me laugh. You're not even worthy of the world Chamsael is going to create for us. You will just be a pile of ash waiting to disintegrate in the impending darkness."

"Chamsael may have enhanced you," Simon faces Nick with a smile. "But a friend of mine also helped me get better..."

The young vampire rapidly pulls out a loaded syringe from his belt and rushes at his counterpart unexpectedly, managing to stick its needle into Nick's pale neck. He swiftly empties its reddish dark content into his enemy's bloodstream.

"What the..." Nick staggers after taking the shot. "What the hell _is_ THIS?!"

"The friend I just told you about told me about certain flaws us vampires have," Simon smiles as he faces Nick. "He was very specific about the devastating effects of the blood of a dead man."

"Motherf..." Nick unsuccessfully tries to punch Simon.

"He also told me about the best way to kill us," Simon avoids another slow and clumsy punch. "He says chopping our heads can do the trick."

Nick falls as Simon avoids his last punch. He then receives a kick in his left ribcage as he tries to stand back up, reaching the floor back in a supine position. The vampire notices his counterpart pulling out a machete from under his black jacket, pronouncing some final words before beheading him.

"His name...is Dean Winchester..."

As Nick's severed head flies away from his body, Dean smiles at his unofficial vampire trainee and rushes towards the opening along with Sam. They are both intercepted by Beatrice, who grabs them both by their necks and easily lifts them off the ground. However, they are suddenly dropped when Luke rushes at her and pins her against the wall. The Winchesters and Shadowhunters rush to his aid.

"I WON'T BE ABLE TO HOLD HER FOR LONG!" Luke yells as he struggles with Beatrice. "GET IN BEFORE THE WALL CLOSES BACK!"

As Simon rushes to aid Luke in holding a hulking Beatrice, the rest of the team run towards the almost regenerated Wall of Flesh. The opening is barely big enough to fit one person. It closes more and more with every passing second at an increased rate. The team rushes towards it at the most possible extent. The hole continues narrowing itself. _We won't make it_ , Sam sighs.

Ithuriel appears in the opening all of a sudden and interposes the golden pike in the closing flesh wall. The manoeuver barely prevents the structure from closing, merely managing to slow down the process. Both ends of Raziel's pike make the demonic flesh bleed profusely. The walls and floor start shaking. The angel's arm muscles contract as he holds his own against the closing flesh.

Thanks to Ithuriel's efforts, the team barely walks through the opening. Clary's eyes go sour as she looks back and sees Beatrice pushing Simon and Luke against the wall. The flesh wall then culminates its regenerating closure, with Ithuriel managing to jump into the main hall.

"You made it," a known voice calmly greets them. "How exciting..."

The Winchesters, Shadowhunters and Ithuriel draw their weapons and face Chamsael. The demon stands before them, topless and showing off the bleeding demonic tattoos carved on his vessel's muscled torso. His yellow eyes shine intensely in the poorly lit room, strongly contrasting the purple color of his eyeballs. His legs remain clothed with digital camouflage pants that partially cover the top of his bare, bloody feet.

Chamsael slowly walks away from the structure concealed by his vessel's robust and broad body. The team then neatly sees a small square-shaped altar, formed by the convergence of the previously seen flesh tentacles. Its four corners show a quartet of bony extensions that look like mammoth fangs, purposely holding a strange shield in its center. Everyone notices the shield is covered in flesh, showing a set of long bones that adopt the shape of a cross, going from top to bottom and from both sides in an exquisitely perpendicular way. Their point of convergence is held together by what looks like a beating human heart, with its veins and aorta connected to the fleshy mess by bony tuberosities.

Behind the altar lies another fleshy structure, but this one adopts the shape of a giant cross. The team notice that it holds a levitating Isabelle, devoid of clothing and with her wrists, ankles and private parts tied and covered by white satin sheets filled with demonic characters and sigils drawn in blood. Her chest shows a still bleeding V-shaped wound with its exteriorized content staining the portion covering her compressed bosom.

"IZZY!" Clary calls for her friend.

"We're gonna' make you pay for everything this time," Alec swings his Seraph Blade at Chamsael. "You won't get away with this."

" _Oooh_ , I'm _scared_ ," Chamsael smiles as he fakes the shaking of his hands. "How do you plan on doing that?"

Looking to lower the demon's boasting, Ithuriel steps forth and shows him Raziel's golden pike. The rest of the team stand near him, carrying angel and Seraph Blades. Chamsael's smile gets wiped. His lips turn horizontal. His yellow and purple eyes are fixated on the angel's weapon.

"Raziel's Pike," the demon cracks his neck and knuckles. "I hadn't seen that artifact in millennia."

The team's focus breaks when they hear another one of Isabelle's piercingly agonizing scream. All notice the dense red dust coming out of her chest wound and flying directly towards the heart at the center of the shield. A strong smell of metal and blood invades the room as the organ starts beating.

"He's bleeding her out to power the shield!" Sam yells his deduction out loud.

"Get ready to attack!" Alec orders.

Ithuriel joins the formation and stands near Sam and Dean, brandishing Raziel's Pike. Magnus stands near Alec, devoid of any weapon, but readying a spell by waving both his hands until blue flames come out of his fingertips. The whole team stands ready. All gaze at Chamsael's vessel.

"ATTACK!"

Before any could comply Alec's order, Chamsael warps and appears in front of Ithuriel. The demon then throws several strong and fast punches at him. Seeing that the winged angel is barely able to dodge or parry them, Magnus shoots several blue fireballs that hit his nemesis' body without bearing any effect, and witnesses how the latter easily dodges Sam and Dean's attacks before hardly pushing them away. Alec, Clary and Jace suffer the same fate when they try attacking him.

"Some _attack_ ," Chamsael mocks the team.

Ithuriel charges at the demon with Raziel's Pike on his hands. Sam and Dean stand up and support the angel's advance, followed by Clary, Jace, Alec and Magnus. Chamsael smiles while he easily dodges all of their cuts, impaling attempts and fireballs, no matter how many angles they come from. In one of the angel's swings, he grabs the golden weapon's tip and sends everyone flying using his telekinesis.

"That hurt...a lot," he claims as he sees blood dripping from the hand holding the pike.

Chamsael shoves the pike away and strongly hits Ithuriel with a frontal punch to his nose and mouth, making him stagger and fall. Jace and Clary charge at the demon again, but he subdues them through blunt golden blows to their ribs and legs. Their bodies make an echoing sound as they are slammed against the granite ground.

"This weapon is dangerous," Chamsael throws the pike away from him. "Yet, it's all you got against me."

The moans and groans of the beat up crew are soon replaced by another one of Isabelle's screams, followed by the same smell of blood as the one before. Sam, Dean, Clary and Jace try to stand up, while Ithuriel manages to regain his composure. However, the latter is thrown against the wall by Chamsael's telekinesis. The demon then smashes Magnus' back with his bare foot.

"I have killed you twice already."

Magnus watches in horror as Chamsael, still with his foot on his back, closes his right fist tightly. Sounds of broken ribs and shredded flesh start coming out from inside the Warlock's abdomen, making the latter scream and twist as far as the demon's footy grip allows him to. His small eyes strongly protrude. His fingers and toes twitch.

"Third time's the charm," Chamsael smiles while gazing at Magnus' pain.

Unable to bear his friend's pain any longer, Alec presses his teeth and stands up. The Nephilim leader then rushes towards the golden pike and grabs it. He then charges at Chamsael with its tip directed towards his heart. The demon turns around and notices the charging Nephilim. He does not dodge, parry or block the attack. The golden spear tip then approaches his left pectoral and pierces it.

"There's something you should know about this pike," Chamsael gazes at Alec.

Alec raises his brows in horror as Chamsael easily extracts the pike's golden tip from his vessel's bleeding skin. Before the Nephilim could react, a strong demonic punch to his cheek throws him against the floor. The demon then crouches near him, grabs his black ashen hair and slams his head against the cold granite.

"Raziel's Pike can only be used by an angel, an Archangel, or a creature chosen by its owner," Chamsael smiles. "Otherwise, it's just a vulgar spear."

With all his attackers beaten, Chamsael walks towards the Shield of Despair and grabs it. He then mounts it on his vessel's left arm and gazes at the agonizing and dazed Isabelle, showing her a terrifyingly sardonic grin. He then walks towards the attacking team and shows them his artifact. All gaze at the still beating heart in its center.

"However, my weapon DOES WORK!"

After his words, Chamsael lifts the shield up and aims its center towards the sky. A red aura comes out from the artifact that spreads all over the place, followed by a long sound of shredded meat. Seconds later, all but Magnus start hearing a loud screech that precedes an excruciating pain all over their bodies and heads. The agony compels Clary, Jace and Alec to roll over, while Sam and Dean press their mandibles and strongly close their eyes before emitting a loud and painful scream. Ithuriel, however, covers his vessel's ears and starts hitting his head with the nearby wall, without being able to ease the apparent pain he is subjected to.

"What?! DON'T YOU LIKE IT?!" Chamsael laughs at the pain he causes.

Unaffected by the shield's power, Magnus stands up and throws a blue fireball at the demon. The projectile is stopped by the artifact and sent back with even greater strength, impacting its original caster. The Warlock's body strongly hits the granite.

"Another one of the shield's perks," Chamsael mocks the grounded Magnus.

After almost thirty seconds of torture, Chamsael lowers the shield and places it back on the altar. Alec and Jace crawl towards a nearby wall and lean against it, while Clary, Ithuriel, Sam and Dean try to aid themselves with the chairs and tables spread around the room in order to regain their balance.

"This was just a taste," Chamsael slowly walks towards the Shadowhunters. "The Shield of Despair Was only at one third of its full capacity. Just imagine it with all its power..."

The still excruciating pain invading Dean's whole body keeps him from being able to stand up, pressing his teeth as he sees his brother in the same conditions. _So this is what the shield does_ , he thinks while looking at everyone's agony. _This son of a bitch must be stopped. People don't deserve to die like this..._

"How are you feeling, darling?" Chamsael caresses Isabelle's hair. "Once all your blood irrigates that shield, everyone will endure an indescribable suffering. We will do this world a favor... _together_."

Chamsael lets go of Isabelle's hair and performs a finger flip with both hands. Six men wearing army fatigues warp into the room immediately after the demon's gesture, showing all a pair of blackened eyeballs. They all slowly approach the defeated team. The Archduke of hell leans against the altar as he watches his soldiers proceed to finish his enemies off.

"Tend to our guests," he orders.

Just as the demons charge against the team, a pair of trap doors open from the ceiling, from which Luke and Simon jump down. Chamsael's soldiers stop their advance and focus on the newcomers. Their boss opens his eyes widely.

"It seems those two useless bums can't do anything right," Chamsael asserts.

Without even bothering to reply, both Downworlders draw their weapons and face Chamsael and his demons. The possessed soldiers slowly walk towards them. The Werewolf faces them and rushes at them along with his vampire companion.

"Let's kick some ass..."

With his gun and a Seraph Blade at hand, Luke chops two of the demons' heads and shoots the third one right before fitting his sword through his heart. Simon's high speed and twin angel blades allow him to stab the first soldier's neck and second one's heart, ending his rampage by pushing both weapons through the third one's abdomen.

"Oh," Chamsael raises one brow.

After disposing of all six demons, Simon and Luke stare at each other before rushing against Chamsael. The Werewolf's clothes are torn to shreds as he drops his weapons and slowly transforms into a dark furred wolf, managing to match his vampire companion's speed in the process.

"Fools," Chamsael readies himself.

Without much effort, Chamsael grabs Simon by his neck and punches Luke's wolf form in the chest, ending the latter's transformation. The vampire struggles in vain as the demon's fingers slowly bury themselves into his pale skin. His strength abandons him little by little. His eyes turn white as his irises take shelter behind his eyelids.

"SIMON!" Clary screams.

Overwhelmed by pain, Alec hits the granite floor with his fist in a sign of helplessness and despair. He tries to stand up as numerous negative thoughts invade his head. He knows the situation has gone out of control. He knows he must make a decision. He must act not as a human or a Shadowhunter, but as a leader.

"Castiel, we failed!" he activates a communications device embedded in his ear. "Overload the reactor now!"

The other Shadowhunters, the Winchesters, Ithuriel and even Chamsael suddenly stare at the Nephilim leader. The demon drops Simon and points a door behind him with his finger, after which two other demonic soldiers warp in and take the direction their leader showed them. Alec manages to stand up and challengingly faces his demonic nemesis.

"You lose, demon. I'm going to blow you and your damn shield to smithereens..."

Chamsael furiously charges against Alec. Sam and Dean stand in his way and quickly fall to the demon's punches and kicks. Ithuriel, Magnus and Clary then attack him, meeting the same fate.

"Damn maggots!" Chamsael punches Alec in the face. "DO YOU THINK YOU CAN TRAP ME?! I'M GONNA' END YOU ONCE AND FOR ALL!"

Chamsael rushes towards his demonic altar and grabs the shield a second time. _This time we're toast,_ Dean gazes at the demon from his fallen position. The demon lifts the artifact towards the sky. The red aura starts coming out. _This is it,_ Sam thinks as he takes one last look at the agonizing Isabelle.

"Now, die..."

Far from vibrating like the last time, the shield inexplicably flies away from Chamsael's hand, followed by the Archduke himself. _What just happened?_ Alec asks himself as he sees the demon's vessel mopping the floor with his exposed back. The Winchesters recognize the subsequent throat clearing. _Crowley..._

"Hello again, boys," the King of Hell steps out of the dark. "Miss me?"

"How did you get in here?!" Alec asks.

"Chamsael must have damaged the runes when he got in here. You're welcome, by the way..."

Chamsael quickly stands up and faces Crowley. He smiles sardonically upon seeing him. The King of Hell smiles back. _Bollocks..._

"You must be Crowley," Chamsael sighs. "The impostor claiming to rule Hell..."

"Boys," Crowley addresses the Winchesters. "It's your chance now. Grab that pike and..."

Before being able to finish his sentence, Crowley is harshly thrown against the wall by Chamsael's telekinetic powers. The latter then kicks Dean in his stomach, throws Sam against the demonic altar and grabs Ithuriel by his chest plate, lifting him up and punching him in the face. The angel's vessel starts bleeding profusely from his nose.

"You're the only one who can use the pike, right? I just have to end you first..."

Seeing how Chamsael continuously punches Ithuriel's face, Clary grabs her Seraph Blade and rushes towards the demon from behind. The Archduke of Hell throws a kick in her direction without even looking, managing to hit her in the chest and send her flying backwards. The redhead's body emits a screeching sound as it wipes the granite floor.

"I'm getting tired of this," Chamsael complains.

Clary sees Alec and Jace rush towards the demon. She raises both brows as she witnesses Chamsael throwing Ithuriel's beat up body at the Shadowhunter leader and, using the latter's Seraph Blade, stabs his companion in the stomach. Blood comes out of the blond Shadowhunter's mouth and stains the floor below him.

"JACE!" Clary screams as tears roll down her pale face.

Her sad reaction gets interrupted by a sudden earthquake that shakes even Chamsael. _What the hell was that?_ Dean asks himself as he regains his balance. Alec smiles at the event. _This is it._

"It seems Castiel is almost done overloading the reactor," he sighs. "Say goodbye, team. _This is the end_..."

"NO!"

Clary suddenly starts levitating. Sam and Dean notice a golden aura suddenly covering the redhead's body slowly and thoroughly, until it bursts into an intense flash of light that gradually dissipates.

"What was _that_?" Sam asks. "What's happening?"

The Winchesters see Clary covered in a golden light that illuminates the whole room, with her eyes showing the same color as her new aura. Her irises shine. Her hair weaves under the light. Sam notices she stands before a freed Isabelle, devoid of clothing or sheets and lying on the cold granite floor.

"Cla... Clary," Simon babbles. "What's going on?"

"She has just received _Raziel's Blessing_ ," Ithuriel explains. "She has been chosen. She can now use the pike."

"Take Izzy to safety," Clary's eyes shine intensely as she gives the order. "I'll take care of this demon."

"But..." Simon babbles anew.

"DO IT NOW!" Clary yells at the vampire.

Without further questioning, Simon and Sam carry Isabelle away from the altar. All stare at Chamsael, who in turn glares at Clary without moving from his previous spot. He cracks his neck vertebrae before facing her.

"I wouldn't get too cocky," Chamsael closes his fists and makes his knuckles crack. "This doesn't mean anything. You're just another high priority target."

Using the demon's distraction, Alec sits near Jace and draws an Iratze rune upon his recently inflicted wound. The latter breathes heavily as he stops bleeding. Ithuriel approaches them and casts his light on the same wound.

"We must help Clary," the angel says. "That aura makes her strong, but not invincible. She needs us."

Clary extends her right arm towards the Raziel's Pike. The golden weapon levitates towards her and reaches the palm of her open hand in seconds. Her fingers close upon touching the shiny handle. She then charges towards the demon in a violent way.

"This is nothing," Chamsael brags.

Once Clary reaches Chamsael, a one-on-one melee fight ensues. The tip of Raziel's Pike moves at an almost supersonic speed, imperceptible to those present and spectating. Vestiges of the golden aura surrounding the Nephilim follow the path of the slashes. Her eyes do not stop shining or staring at the demon's yellow irises and purple eyeballs. Sounds of fist-to-weapon parrying and cut air fly across the room.

"God, she's doin' it," Luke smiles and nods.

"Not exactly," Ithuriel approaches the werewolf while grabbing his shoulder. "Chamsael is making her flinch. She needs our help."

Ithuriel's claim proves to be right as the skirmish goes on. Clary's attacks become slower and more inaccurate by the minute. Her slashes become less parried by the demon, who in turn increases his dodging frequency. _Damn it!_

"What?" Chamsael laughs at Clary. "Tired already?"

The demon suddenly rushes towards Clary, grabs the pike and strongly kicks her in the stomach. The Nephilim flies away. Her golden aura dissipates as her body hits the ground. _Damn it, I can't do it!_ She hits the floor with both fists. _He's too strong!_

"Clary, c'mon, get up!" Dean grabs her arm and lifts her up. "You've got enough juice to use that pike!"

"We're right here with you," Simon stands near her.

"We've got your back," Luke joins the group.

Clary takes a fast look at her surroundings. She smiles as she sees Isabelle, alive and well, held in Sam's arms. She then sighs as she sees Magnus crawling towards Alec and an alive Jace. Upon staring back at Chamsael, her green eyes acquire the golden light once more before the aura engulfs her anew.

"Now, end this nightmare once and for all, my child," Ithuriel orders.

Clary grabs Raziel's Pike and charges towards Chamsael. She points the golden tip at his heart. The demon extends his arm at her with his open hand.

"Come at me, bitch."

Chamsael tries using his telekinesis at her, but hits Luke and Simon instead when they rush between his hand and the redhead's body. The demon's second attempt is endured by Ithuriel. Alec takes the third one.

"DAMN MAGGOTS!" Chamsael yells and closes both fists.

As her advance proves relentless, Clary grabs the pike with both hands, raises it over her head and jumps. She closes her eyes and prays in her own way. _My strength propels me. My faith guides me. My love makes me invincible!_

The sound of ripped flesh is then heard.

 _*¡TCHACK!*_

Clary sight is still blurred. She barely distinguishes the robust body of Chamsael's vessel at the other end of the long golden pike, coughing and screaming as she thrusts the weapon into his skin. The demon can barely speak.

"D...damn you..."

"She made it," Ithuriel sighs.

Chamsael stands before Clary. He stares at her as his bloodied hands stain the golden weapon. The pike's tip loses itself within the flesh that covers the vessel's heart. He can barely move or speak.

"Take that," Clary smiles.

The young Shadowhunter then pulls the pike out. The floor stains itself with blood as it profusely comes out from Chamsael's vessel. His face shows a pair of exuberantly open eyes which purple eyeballs and yellow irises shine under the main hall's dim light. Clary then notices a pair of arms dressed in a beige trench coat holding the demon by his waist, along with another pair of arms holding his neck.

"There you go, you son of a bitch," Dean lets go off the demon's neck and walks backwards.

"Damn you all!" Chamsael yells as he unsuccessfully tries to shove Castiel off his waist. "This isn't over! There's more where I came from!"

"Then let them come!"

Clary stabs Chamsael a second time, after which Castiel decides to let go. The demon forcibly kneels in front of everyone. His mouth bleeds profusely as he stares at everyone. A final cough stains the ground beneath him in blood.

"They will meet the same fate as you did," Clary finishes her idea.

After hearing her words, the demon is engulfed in vivid golden flames. He maintains his kneeling position and keeps staring at everyone until he emits a loud scream, after which he fully disintegrates and vanishes along with the fire. All team members stand next to her, involved in one single thought. _It is finally over_.

"Weren't you at the generator, Cass?" Dean asks.

"I ordered you to overload it," Alec smiles. "How come you're here and we're still in one piece?"

"I started overloading the heavenly nucleus after I heard your order," Castiel explains. "However, after I felt Clary's heavenly ward, I decided to abandon my task and help her. I just knew it would work. I had faith."

"And you were right," Ithuriel pats Castiel's shoulder.

Clary notices Isabelle leaning on Sam's shoulders, dressed only with his leather jacket. She looks down as she approaches her friend, who welcomes her with a smile.

"I'm sorry, Izzy. I should have protected you better."

"No," Isabelle grabs Clary's chin and raises her head. "This is on me, all of it. My addiction to Yin Fen provides this monster one of the ingredients for that damned shield. I should have never..."

"Hey, don't beat yourself up," Dean interrupts her. "Sam and I have triggered numerous apocalyptic events due to our unawareness, yet here we are. What's really important is that we stopped it, and we all need to prevent something like this from ever happening again."

"Well, believe me when I say that my addiction won't be a problem anymore," Isabelle addresses everyone. "This whole thing has given me the strength to stop taking vampire venom, even if my heart explodes on abstinence. I won't provide anything for any of these monsters anymore. I promise."

"And we will help you through it all," Alec passes his arm over his sister's shoulders. "We promise."

The winning moment is interrupted by an echoing sound of shredded flesh and broken bones. All turn their sights towards the place where the noise comes from and see Ithuriel pulling out a sword away from the shield, which subsequently disappears under a flash of intense golden light.

"Nice work, everyone," Ithuriel smiles at the group. "I did not want to leave without saying _thank you_. It has been an honor to fight by your sides, especially yours, Castiel."

"The honor is ours," Alec kneels along with the rest of the Shadowhunters.

"What did you do with the shield?" Sam asks.

"Once it's assembled, the Shield of Despair can only be destroyed by God or an Archangel. I am going to bring it to Heaven, and foresee its destruction."

"Don't forget this as well," Castiel hands Raziel's Pike to Ithuriel.

"I want you all to remember this day," Ithuriel addresses the group. "Regardless of our race or alignment, we all fought toe to toe against the horrible threat Chamsael posed. In fact, this feat could have never been accomplished without the aid provided by the Downworlders, with even the King of Hell himself having a part in all this. Remember, we are all children of the Lord"

After his speech, Ithuriel gets engulfed in a white light himself. He then looks towards the heavens, shuts his eyes and flies away so fast that Sam and Dean perceive it as a teleportation. Castiel keeps his sights set on the sky for a few seconds.

"You miss your wings, huh?" Dean approaches his seraph friend.

"It's not that," Castiel looks down, then faces Dean. "Ithuriel is the only angel I've met who has praised me for my actions, who has shown pure admiration towards me. I hadn't felt like that since..."

Castiel's sentence is interrupted by a punch to his cheek so strong that he falls off his feet. All other hunters and Downworlders receive either a kick or a blow that bears similar effects. All notice the figure that stands in the middle of the room from their downed positions. The attacker shakes her red hair and arranges it. She stares at her adversaries. Luke and Simon stare back at her. _Beatrice_.

"Didn't you off this bitch?" Dean addresses Luke and Simon.

"I did," Luke tries getting back up. "Well, I thought I did."

"I was waiting for that angel to leave," Beatrice shows her drooling fangs. "Now that he's gone, I'm gonna' rip you all to..."

Her threat is abruptly interrupted by a blade that goes through her neck. Her head falls. Her body collapses.

"Funny how you sharpen these things," Crowley steps forth from behind the beheaded Beatrice, holding a still bloodied claymore longsword. "I thought they were purely decorative."

"I thought you didn't want Chamsael to see you," Dean stands up.

"Well, seeing you couldn't handle the situation properly, I decided to tag along. Besides, I've taken a particular interest in this baby over here. I wanna' know the secert of Chamsael's power enhancing abilities on monsters. Might prove useful."

"I knew it," Sam steps forth.

"Well, it's been nice seeing you."

Crowley waves his hand at everyone before disappearing with a fingerflip. Sam and Dean roll their eyes away as they notice that Beatrice's body and head have disappeared as well. Alec pats both brothers' shoulders.

"It's all right," he smiles. "We'll get him... eventually."

"It is really over now," Simon sighs.

"All right," Dean smiles. "Who's up for a beer?"


	7. Epilogue

**EPILOGUE**

 _Way-Thru bar, outskirts of New Palz, Upstate New York, next day, 11:00 PM_

The Winchesters and Castiel sit with Jace, Clary, Isabelle, Luke and Simon at a set of three tables grouped together, inside the Way-Thru bar on the main road entering New Palz. They all cheer and clink beer mugs and glasses with whisky or vodka. Castiel and Isabelle remain seated with their sights set elsewhere, with the latter launching quick peeks at Sam from time to time.

"By the way," Dean smiles and drinks a zip from his beer. "Where did Alec and Magnus go?"

"They couldn't make it," Jace sighs. "Alec's tending to the damages at the Institute and Magnus said he had something important to do. He babbled about energy purification. Don't know what that means."

"Their loss, then."

Dean and Jace make sudden eye contact with two women sitting at the benches near the bar. They notice that both are blonde, blue-eyed, with doll-like faces and voluptuously hot bodies. Dean reciprocates their smiling gesture.

"What do you say, Jace? Care to be my wingman?"

"Only if you don't screw this up," Jace smiles and finishes his whiskey.

"Sam, I have something urgent to tend to," Dean stands up. "Don't wait up for me."

After enduring everyone's eye rolls and weary sighs, Dean and Jace stand up and slowly walk towards the two women. The rest of the crew orders more drinks and keep celebrating. The night continues.

Hours later and nearing the bar's morning closure, Jace and Dean walk towards the Impala, which had waited for them parked near the bar. Both smile and complain while staggering towards the car's comfortable classic seats. They stare at the still blackened and starless sky.

"Are we really gonna' sleep here?" Jace complains.

"Well, my brother and I have done it plenty of times," Dean leans against the back of the driver's seat and shuts his eyes. "It's never killed us before."

"We sure screwed up back there," Jace imitates his actions.

"It's official", Dean smiles. "You suck as a wingman."

"You too."

"Guys, do you mind?"

Jace and Dean are startled by a familiar female voice coming from the back seat. Jace looks, turns around and then looks again. _It can't be_. Dean doesn't even bother.

"Izzy?!" Jace covers his eyes with his hands. "Oh my _GOD_!"

"Man, you should put a sign or something," Dean scolds his brother. "I didn't know you guys were back there..."

"Dude!" Sam covers Isabelle's naked body with his shirt. "Give us some space!"

"All right, all right," Dean smiles and pats Jace's shoulder. "C'mon, tough guy. Let the kids play..."

Jace wrinkles his face before leaving the Impala and walking away with Dean, leaving Sam and Isabelle alone at the Impala, laughing at the events that had just transpired. _Way to go, dude,_ Dean smiles.

* * *

 _Outside the Shadowhunter Institute, Manhattan, New York, 4:00 AM_

A man walks in the darkness surrounding the New York Shadowhunter Institute, strongly holding a metal box. His black combat boots leave blood stains as he leaves the beheaded and stabbed corpse of a man behind. The latter's numerous black tattoos shine under the moonlight.

The man stands under a street lamp and searches his pocket He takes a vibrating cellphone out and answers it.

"Arthur Ketch speaking," he talks on the phone. "Yes, madam, I have it with me. I had to go against protocol and kill a Shadowhunter who was very uncooperative. He was unwilling to hand me the item."

A silence follows his phone speech, after which he pronounces a last sentence before hanging up.

"Yes, I understand. Right away, madam."

Ketch opens the metal box and checks his content under the light. He gazes and smiles at the Colt before he closes it back. The Englishman then takes a final look at the old Cathedral before disappearing into the dark.

"We'll be seeing you again... _Shadowhunters_..."

 _ **The end...?**_

* * *

 **AUTHOR´S FINAL NOTES**

I want to use this opportunity to give special thanks to Fanfiction users _Space Cowboy_ and _Dazzle2002_ , who have, in a way or another, supported me and accompanied me through this endeavor, as well as helped me learn many things during this adventure.

Also special thanks to all the users who followed me, as well as to all those who read my story. I hope it has been to your liking.

All my readers can follow me on my FB and TW pages for additional and bonus content.


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